


Can't Run From You

by TeenCaterpillar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst to Fluff, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky is a good brother, George Barnes is a dick in this one, Homoeroticism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, May Eventually Be Explicit, Pining, Slow Burn, Start as Mature, This takes place back then over there, gay farmers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeenCaterpillar/pseuds/TeenCaterpillar
Summary: When Bucky Barnes' father brings on a new set of hands, Bucky finds himself struck.  Steve Rogers is kind, gentle, and beautiful.  And Bucky can't let himself linger on that.  Juggling his sisters, his father's expectations, and the devious farm hand, Rumlow, would be much easier if Steve wasn't so perfect.  So perfect, Bucky knew he had to stay away, or he'd ruin everything.  But Steve has secrets of his own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want gay farmers.  
> So I wrote them.
> 
> Unbeta'd. Not sure how many chapters this will end up being. But I have ideas on where to go.  
> This is all I need, and hopefully it does y'all some good, too.
> 
> This takes place in the general past, in a slightly shitty place, but things get better.

Bucky woke with the sun shining on his face through the thin curtains on his windows. He groaned and turned onto his other side, trying to regain the comfort of sleep. As he was beginning to let it wash back over him, he was pulled back into reality by the splash of cold water over his face.

“What the f--!” Bucky shot upright, spluttering and drenched. He turned toward the giggling and glared at his sisters.

“Careful Bucky, Mom won’t like it if she hears you swear!” Becca drawled, smiling before she dashed out, her laughter carrying down the stairs. Beth and Ruth followed suit.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t swear if you tried to wake me up like a normal person!” He shouted after them, getting off his soaked bed and grumbling as he put on fresh clothes. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and frowned; the bags under his eyes were prominent and he had some hickeys fading on his chest. The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs prompted him to hastily pull on a white undershirt, his hands trembling ever so slightly. Bucky pulled on a collared shirt, which he was buttoning up, when he felt the looming presence of his father behind him. He tensed up, but did not turn around as he finished doing his buttons. “Yes, sir?”

“I need you to gather the eggs this morning. Rumlow and I are going to be doing rounds on the crops to see if we can figure out what’s been eating at them. After the eggs, I need you to--” Bucky felt more than heard his father approach and grimaced when George turned him around, harshly. “Is it too much to ask for you to look at me when I’m speaking to you, boy?” Bucky shrugged out of his father’s grasp, leveling him with a cool stare.

“Sorry, sir,” Bucky said. His father glowered, but stepped back.

“After the eggs, give the chickens’ fence a go over. Some of them got out the other day, but I haven’t had time to look at where the gap is. I would have yesterday, but we were short on hands.” Bucky clenched his hands into fists and looked away.

“I said I was sorry,” Bucky grit out. “Besides, Becca said--”

“I asked you to do it, not Becca. She needs to be helping your mother.” His father rubbed his temple and turned to leave. “Now get to it, I want that fence fixed before lunch.” Bucky stood still, not moving until he heard the front door slam behind his father. Letting out the breath he had been holding, Bucky grabbed his hat and counted to ten. All things considered, the conversation had gone the best it could. Most likely because Bucky kept his mouth shut. He angrily made his way down the stairs but froze when he got to the bottom. His mother was there, holding out an egg sandwich with tomato, and Bucky felt his face heat up with shame.

“Now you get that look off your face, Bucky Barnes,” she said. Winifred took his hat and placed it on his head, cupping his cheek as she pulled away. “Never be ashamed to feel things, but do try and treat the stairs with a little more compassion. Goodness knows they get enough trouble as is.”

“Yes, ma,” Bucky mumbled around his sandwich. He gave her a firm but brief hug before heading out the back door. Becca was waiting for him on the porch and he rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything when she followed him. After Bucky had shoved the last bit of sandwich in his mouth, he opened the shed and grabbed his tool belt. “Dad’ll have your hide if he catches you out here with me.”

“Dad can shove it,” Becca grumbled and Bucky smirked. “Besides, the hens don’t particularly like you, so I may as well be there to keep peckin’ to a minimum.” Bucky laughed and slung his arm over her shoulder, which she promptly shoved off, making him laugh harder.

“Whatever you say, Becks.” She flipped him the bird. They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence, gravel crunching under their feet. Bucky took the time to really take in his sister. He hadn’t been back from school for long and hadn’t gotten the chance to see her for much longer than meals. She was taller now, her brown hair in two long braids, and she was wearing his old boots. He smiled, though it was subdued. She’d be wearing all his hand me downs if she could, but their father wouldn’t allow more than the boots. Her dress was wrinkled and stained with mud, meaning she had been out that day already. Becca loved the farm. She loved the animals, the fresh air, and getting dirt under her fingernails with good, hard work. Bucky wished he had half the enthusiasm that she did.

When they reached the hen house, the chickens ran to Becca, clucking and flapping, hoping for some feed and attention. It allowed Bucky ease when gathering the eggs, but he’d never admit to her she was right. He’d never hear the end of it. A few hens milled in the house still, grouping around his feet as he put together egg crates to take back to the house. They pecked at him and he gently shooed them off, making sure each egg was uncracked and ready to be sold. He was stacking the crates together by the time Becca joined him again.

“Good haul. Want me to grab the truck? Then you won’t have to lug these back one by one,” she said, eyeing the stacks.

“Might as well. I’m gonna go look around the fence, see if I can spot where the hens are gettin’ out.” He wiped his hands off on his jeans.

“There’s a small gap on the north east side where the chicken wire got pulled up. Not sure what did it, but it seems like an easy fix,” Becca said, casually. Bucky shot her a look and she pouted at him. “I just happened to walk by is all, wasn’t lookin’.” As she spoke she tensed up, shoulders rising.

“You ain’t gotta lie to me, Becks,” Bucky said. Her shoulders dropped from her ears and she exhaled shakily.

“I know, I know, I just…” She trailed off, picking at a stray thread on her dress. Bucky sighed and gave her a one armed hug, tucking her under his chin.

“He get worse while I was gone or somethin’?” He muttered into her hair. He felt her nod and let her pull away.

“Got real bad after the valentine’s dance. I didn’t go, wanted to work on some stuff for the hen house, and I guess it was just a little too far for him.” She shrugged, but Bucky could tell there was more to it than that.

“If he laid a hand on you, I swear I’ll--”

“He didn’t,” she said quickly, meaning he definitely had. Bucky snarled, but Becca grabbed his shoulders, staring him down. “Don’t go makin’ trouble, Bucky. He’s a bastard, sure, but you’ll never get outta here if you keep pushin’ his buttons.”

“Me bein’ alive pushes his buttons. Can’t stand I don’t wanna take over the farm, can’t stand me enjoyin’ life, can’t stand me bein’--” he choked on his last words and ran a hand over his face. Inhale, exhale. Count to ten. He felt Becca take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Lowering his hand, Bucky gave her a tight smile and nod. “Let’s go get that truck.”

\-----

 

The dinner table was quiet, but tense. Bucky had finished the fence, forcing Becca to go back to the house to help their mother with the washing up. She’d kicked dirt at him, but knew he was just trying to look out. He spent the afternoon cleaning up the barn and checking on the cows; it was a dirty job, but the cows loved him and would nuzzle against him as he worked. He was laying next to his favorite, Minnie, when his father and Rumlow came back. His father had kicked him in the side, berating him for dallying when there was plenty of things he could do. Bucky had bit his tongue, forcing his fight down, though it was harder with Rumlow smirking at him. The tensions carried into dinner, and even Beth and Ruth were subdued. They hadn’t kicked at each other under the table even once. Rumlow kept smirking at Bucky across the table, and he was ready to snap. It was only Becca’s hand on his knee and the vice grip on his fork that kept him from launching over and punching the asshole right in the face. Winnie kept looking between Bucky and his father, eyes filled with worry.

“I’m hiring some more help.” George’s words pierced through the thick silence and Winnie’s fork dropped to the table.

“Oh, George, can we really afford it?” She shrank back slightly when George turned his gaze on her and Bucky tightened his fist.

“I’ve talked it over with a young man in need of lodging. We still have that caravan outback and I told him he had full use of it for the summer as long as he helped with the farm. It’ll be nice to have consistent help before fall.” Tension rose again, the unspoken words hinting at Bucky’s perceived laziness and duty shirking. Bucky exhaled through his nose and felt only slightly better at Rumlow’s obvious annoyance with the idea. “There’s not going to be a discussion and that’s the end of it,” George grunted and stood. Rumlow tossed his napkin on his plate and followed him out. Bucky just stared at his plate.

“I don’t know why he won’t just let me help!” Becca burst out, stabbing into the remains of her meatloaf. “I don’t care if it’s not ‘lady like’ to like bein’ in the mud! It’s who I am!”

“Becca,” Winnie began, her tone gentle but firm. “You know better than to bring this up when he’s in the house.” Becca scoffed and slammed her cutlery down before stomping up the stairs. Winnie’s lip trembled and she put her head in her hands, taking in gulping breaths.

“Hey Mama, can I have the rest of Becca’s potatoes?” Martha’s voice cut through and melted the tension in Winnie’s shoulders.

“Sure baby,” she said, smiling. Bucky watched his mother, concerned about how delicate she looked. Had her hands shook that much the last time he was home? Had the circles under her eyes been that deep? Beth and Ruth’s bickering about who was going to collect dishes brought him out of his ruminating.

“I did it last night AND at lunch! It’s Ruth’s turn!”

“Well I helped mom with all the laundry!”

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said. “You two go make sure Becca is doin’ alright.” They dashed off, not looking a gift horse in the mouth, and Bucky began gathering the plates. Martha kissed his cheek as he bent to grab her plate, then followed the other two up the stairs. When he got to his mother, he paused and began to rub her shoulders. She leaned into the touch and sighed.

“Sometimes I don’t know what to do with that girl,” she whispered. Bucky pushed at the knots in her back, sighing.

“She’s just angry. You remember me when I was 16?”

“I’d rather not, thank you. You were always looking to push your father’s buttons. Compared to you, she’s a dream.” Bucky kissed the top of his mother’s head, pleased she had finally smiled and loosened up.

“She’ll be okay, Ma.” He kissed her forehead this time before grabbing her plate and taking the dishes into the kitchen. She followed him, rolling up her sleeves and starting the wash water. “Don’t worry about these, I’ll do ‘em,” Bucky said, gently moving her away from the sink.

“At least let me dry them? If your father walks in…”

“Then I’ll tell him you looked tired so I wanted to help.” Bucky scrubbed a plate too aggressively and splashed soapy water on his front. “Damn it.”

“What do you think about it?” Bucky looked at his mother and shrugged.

“He’ll be happy to have consistent help, I’m sure.” Bucky looked away when she flinched at his tone. She wasn’t the reason his father was this way, but he couldn’t hide the anger that had built up over the day. “Sorry. I do think it’ll be good for him, to have another pair of eyes and hands, I just hope it’s not another Rumlow.” She sighed and began to dry the dishes he had cleaned, her silent agreement hanging in the air. They finished quietly and Bucky felt more at peace than he had in days.

\-----

“Someone’s comin’ up the road! Someone’s comin’!” Ruth’s shout could be heard all the way in the field, where Bucky was tending to some cows, and he watched her run inside, Beth right at her heels. Bucky smiled, wondering when they had become so close. As they grew older, the one year difference must have meant less. Not that Beth wouldn’t lord the extra year over Ruth’s head anytime she had the chance, but they were both starting to get an interest in adulthood and that must have been a good enough joiner. He felt sad at having missed that. After giving Harriet a good pat on the rump, Bucky made his way toward the house. He saw a tall man making his way up to the house and picked up the pace. When he got inside, George was slapping the man on the back, smiling like he might’ve meant it. His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Bucky; it was a warning, though Bucky had no idea why.

“Steve, this is my son, James. He’ll be helping us as well, but he usually tends to the smaller things.” The man, Steve, turned around and held out his hand.

“Steve Rogers.” His voice was deep and smooth and suddenly his father’s warning made sense. Bucky had been wrong; Steve couldn’t have been much older than he was. His eyes were a sharp blue, clear as a summer morning or tepid waters. The golden hue of his hair caught in the light. And under his cleanly pressed shirt were muscles that must have been sculpted by God themself. His smile was warm and kind, genuine and pure. Bucky swallowed and took his hand.

“James, but I prefer to be called Bucky,” he rasped. He took his hand back quickly and swallowed again. Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion, but his smile remained. “Middle name’s Buchanan. Nickname.” Steve nodded and turned back towards George, shooting Bucky one last look, before he was lead out to the caravan. Bucky watched him go, but quickly averted his eyes and quickly retreated back toward the cows. He stared at the ground, walking blindly, and only stopped when he ran into something. He looked up and Minnie licked the side of his face. Bucky gripped onto her and took shaky breaths. It lasted for a long time, but he couldn’t be sure how long. When he pulled away, he was suddenly very aware of someone behind him. He whipped around and met Becca’s apologetic eyes. She just watched him, not saying anything. Bucky forced a small smile, his nerves sky rocketing. “I’m fine, Becks. You don’t need to look at me like that.”

“If I don’t worry about you, who will?” His laugh was watery and she pulled him in, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “You don’t have to tell me why you ran,” and at these words Bucky sagged slightly in relief, “But don’t feel like you can’t tell me somethin’, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, barely above a whisper.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F slur used in this one. Way, way at the end.
> 
> Once again, unbeta'd.

Steve was both a blessing and a curse for Bucky. On the one hand, he was a hard worker, diligent and quick. Bucky’s father was extremely pleased, making for the calmest week the family had had in quite a while. It also meant Rumlow was pissed. Bucky knew the slimy prick wanted the farm for his own, so anything that made that more difficult for him was a plus in Bucky’s book. Martha adored Steve, but that might be because he would always lift her on his shoulders when hse asked. It didn’t take much to please Martha. When he had offered to help with dishes the first night, and wouldn’t take Winnie’s no for an answer, Bucky’s heart had clenched. He was a good man.

Almost too god, maybe. Bucky’s throat had a near permanent lump whenever Steve was around. He avoided eye contact, those blue eyes seeming to see right into him, and did his best to avoid too much conversation. From what little Steve had shared, Bucky got the idea he didn’t have anywhere else to go. His father had died before he was born, his mother had died the year before, and his last job had ended recently and abruptly. How anyone could give someone like Steve the cold shoulder, Bucky would never know.

Presently, Steve was chopping wood, his blue flannel pulled tight across his shoulders. His motions were fluid and practiced, each strike splitting the wood to near perfection. Bucky watched from afar, letting Minnie eat some grass out of his hand. Steve wiped sweat from his brow, his golden hair sticking to his forehead, and set down the axe. He stretched, arms reaching up, and Bucky couldn’t look away. The way his shoulders bunched, the curve of his back as he leaned, the perfect roundness of his ass…

Bucky shook his head and focused on Minnie again, taking time to collect himself before looking back over. Steve had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, which he never did, and Bucky soaked in the sight of his glistening collarbone. Steve noticed him then and waved, shyly, and Bucky nodded in acknowledgement before leading Minnie to a different part of the pasture. He needed to get out of here. He needed to quell this need for Steve and he knew just who would help him. But that would have to wait until later. Beth and Ruth were bickering when he got into the house.

“Stop complainin’! The more whinin’ you do and the less stitchin’, the more it’ll hurt. You have to build up a callous!” Beth had her embroidery on her lap, leaning into Ruth’s space to try and show her the best way to push the needle. “You have to use a thimble!”

“But it’s uncomfortable and keeps fallin’ off!” Ruth’s face was flushed with anger. Bucky looked around, and when he didn’t see his mother anywhere, he approached the two.

“Hey, hey. Beth, that’s not workin’,” he said, kneeling by them. “Ruth, let me see your finger, huh?” She held out her thumb, which had quite a few little red dots, light punctures from the thicker needle, and he tutted. “Alright, hand me that thimble, Beth.” She handed it over, frowning.

“It’s not my fault she doesn’t know anythin’,” she grumbled. Ruth opened her mouth to retort, but Bucky cut her off.

“Beth, that’s no way to talk to your sister. She’s tryin’. Did you get this the first time you tried?” Beth mumbled under her breath and turned away, crossing her arms. Bucky shook his head in fond exasperation and then held up the thimble. “First of all, you wear it on your middle finger, not your thumb,” Ruth shot Beth a dirty look at that, “Second of all, wet your finger a little before puttin’ it on. That should help with the grip.” Beth was watching from the corner of her eye, and Bucky smiled softly. She could pretend she wasn’t listening all she wanted, but he knew better. “You can also wear it on your pointer finger if you want. Just depends on what finger you use to push the needle in.” Ruth nodded and did a few stitches to practice while Bucky watched. “Yeah, good, just like that!” Ruth smiled as Bucky stood and ruffled her hair.

“Hey!” She chirped, too happy about her success to really get mad.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, sticking his tongue out. Ruth happily went back to embroidering and Bucky turned his attention to Beth, leaning down and placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You did a good job gettin’ her started, but next time try and be a little more patient, okay?” Beth nodded, but didn’t go back to embroidering. Bucky bit his lip before kneeling in front of her. “When I get frustrated, I like to count to ten, matching my breathin’ with my countin’. It helps me center myself.” He spoke gently. Beth could get very sensitive to criticism and he didn’t want her to berate herself over something like this. “Wanna try with me?” She nodded and he counted to ten for her, taking her hands in his and gently squeezing reassuringly. He could see the tension leak out of her shoulders and felt her hands relax in his. When she opened her eyes, they were clear, no hint of sadness. Bucky smiled and ruffled her hair, getting a yelp in return.

“Bucky!” She swatted at his hand and he snickered.

“What, you got someone you want to impress?” He teased. She blushed and ducked her head. His eyebrows shot up. Ruth giggled.

“She thinks Steve is cute,” Ruth sang. Beth glowered at her.

“So do you!” The two began their squabbling again, so Bucky made a swift exit. He didn’t have anything more to offer them anyway. Nothing he would tell, at least. Shaking those thoughts off, he nearly ran into Becca.

“Easy there, Bucky, someone might think you had somethin’ to do,” she drawled. He pinched her shoulder and got a slap on the back of his head. “Thought you would be with Minnie all afternoon.” Bucky looked away, aiming for nonchalance.

“Thought I might go out. See if Clint was free.” She gave him a sharp look.

“Bucky,” she began.

“I just,” he sighed, “I just need to get out of here for a while. Cover for me?” She rolled her eyes, but nodded anyway.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She hoisted the laundry onto the table, grabbing some garments out and beginning to fold them.

“I don’t know. Just tell them I went to the auto shop or somethin’. Dad won’t care more than that anyway.” Becca shot him a look, full of concern and frustration, but he ignored it. He grabbed the keys to his car and gave her a mini salute. Belatedly, she returned it, and he knew she might be annoyed, but she’d cover for him anyway.

\-----

“What’s got you all worked up, huh?” Clint was leaning against the brick wall of his apartment building, sipping on what looked like a luke warm beer. Clint was Bucky’s best friend. Well, his only friend really. Besides Natasha, and even then, Bucky had only met her through Clint. The two had met while Bucky was away and had become inseparable ever since. And honestly, Bucky was happy for Clint. He was. Clint had been orphaned as a kid, growing up with a travelling circus, before settling in the town not too far from the Barnes’ Farm. He was witty, carefree, and had an air of ease that Bucky wished for. He deserved someone who cared for him, warts and all. Warts meaning Clint’s inability to read a room and the way he never backed down. Bucky shrugged and snatched the beer out of Clint’s hand, chugging it. “Hey!”

“It’s nothin’. Just wanted to get out, yanno.” Clint narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips. He studied Bucky’s face, searching for something, though Bucky had no idea what it might be. Okay, so he had a small idea.

“This about the new hire at your place? Get another Rumlow?” Clint hated Rumlow with a burning passion that started long before Rumlow had ran his hand up Natasha’s thigh. She’d nearly broken his wrist, but Clint still raised his hackles anytime Rumlow was mentioned. Bucky shook his head.

“Name’s Steve. Rogers. Seems like a good enough guy,” Bucky said. “Gets along with everyone except Rumlow, but that’s not anything shockin’.” Clint snorted and reached down, pulling another beer from the box at his feet. He tossed it to Bucky before grabbing another for himself.

“Don’t know him, but something tells me you’re not exactly telling the whole truth.” Bucky looked away from Clint again, unable to meet his eyes. Clint clicked his tongue in recognition. “Ah. That’s it.” He sighed and slung his arm over Bucky’s shoulders, gulping down half his can of beer. “Looks like we’ll be making our way into the city tonight!” He let out a whoop and Bucky felt himself start to smile.

“Where’s Tasha?” She hadn’t been in the apartment when he’d arrived and Bucky was hoping she would join them.

“She’s outta town on ‘business’,” Clint said. He shrugged. “Someone’s gotta pay the bills in this family.”

“And we know it would never be you,” Bucky responded, ever so sweetly. Clint shoved him, laughing, and Bucky felt the knot in his chest loosen.

\-----

The city had bars on bars, drunks stumbling out in shrouds of obnoxious laughter, the smell of beer and sick mixing in with the cool evening air. While their pickings were not slim, Bucky had only one bar he would go to. He pulled into a lot not too far from the place. Clint got out first, tapping his knuckles on the hood of the car and whistling. Bucky followed suit, keeping his head down, but staying vigilant. Walking into a place like Daisy’s wasn’t something one wanted to broadcast. It was known that ‘degenerates’ would patron the bar and you might as well be sucking God themself off if you were seen walking in. Clint and Bucky quietly went in, both letting out a sigh of relief when the door closed behind them.

Inside of Daisy’s was like a dream. It was clean, low lit, and records lined the walls. Bright red booths stuck out between the cream colored walls and dark mahogany tables, giving the place a spiffy, modern look. Bucky loved it. He and Clint plopped themselves into one of the smaller booths and it wasn’t long before their favorite waitress made her way over.

“Well hello boys, haven’t seen you for a while,” Carol said, the tightness in her smile betraying her carefree tone. Bucky shook his head, smirking.

“Just been busy, Carol, ain’t anythin’ for you to worry your pretty little head over,” he said, resting his chin on his fist and batting his eyelashes. She chuckled and shook her head.

“You’re full of it,” she replied. “What can I do you for? Usuals?” Clint gave her a thumbs up and Bucky pursed his lips in thought.

“Gimme a vodka on the rocks.” Carol raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She did give him a sharp analytical look, which he promptly looked away from, but Bucky expected as much. Carol was the best bartender in history, in Bucky’s opinion, and it had to do with the strength of her cocktails as well as her no bullshit attitude. When she and Natasha had met, Bucky could’ve sworn he felt the earth shake, two formidable women sizing each other up. They’d quickly taken to each other, hard not to when you were a strong woman who never balked or gave up her agency, and Clint had watched with stars in his eyes.

Bucky scouted the dance floor, full of people dancing in pairs. Men and women, men and men, women and women, black, white, and anyone in between, Daisy’s was for everyone. And with Carol manning the bar and keeping out the trash, it was a relatively safe place to be. His eyes fell on a young man, dancing alone in a sea of couples. He was built, with short cropped hair, and danced like everyone was watching. And he wanted them to. Carol set Bucky’s drink down in front of him, blocking his view. She leaned on the table, narrowing her eyes, almost looking right through Bucky. Her gaze pierced through him, but this time he refused to look away. Apparently, that was the correct thing to do, because she stood up, and gently shoved at his shoulder.

“Be careful, Barnes,” she said. Bucky watched her leave. Clint sipped his drink, a homemade cider that must have been made in the heavens, and nodded to the dance floor.

“I’ll be here, just let me know when you’re ready to head out, yeah?” Bucky nodded and downed his vodka, shaking his head at the harsh bite in the back of his throat, before making his way onto the dance floor. Bucky and Clint had had this arrangement going for almost a year now. Clint and Bucky would go to Daisy’s, Clint would be the designated driver, and Bucky would have a safe way to meet men on the sly. If anything did happen, Clint was the best of the best when it came to bullshitting, which had saved their hides more than once. Bucky glanced back at the table, feeling intensely thankful for his friend. A hand on his arm brought him out of his thoughts and he turned, looking into blue eyes. The young man he had noticed before was there, grinning like a cat who caught the canary.

“Hey there,” he said, “Wanna dance?” Bucky grinned and leaned closer.

“I wanna do more than that,” he said, playfully. The young man’s eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t play around, do you?” His voice was deeper than Bucky thought it would be. Bucky leaned in, whispering into the young man’s ear.

“If we’re both here for fun, why wait?” He could feel the young man shudder and smirked to himself. Hands on his hips made him pull back, and he allowed himself to be led to the restrooms at the back of the bar. They were big, open, and had tiny rooms attached for those who didn’t feel safe enough to connect elsewhere. Carol had really thought it out, though Bucky was sure a lot of this was her partner Maria’s doing. He pushed those thoughts to the side, shoving the young man into the tiny room. “What’s your name, doll?”

“Johnny, but who needs names,” he said. Bucky could hear the unstated fear and decided Johnny was right. They weren’t going to be seeing each other again after this. Not if Bucky could help it. So instead of giving his name in turn, Bucky pushed Johnny against the wall and kissed him.

\-----

After his escapade in the bathroom, which had lasted longer than he had thought it would, not that he was complaining, Bucky had returned to the booth were Clint sat and spent the remainder of the evening drinking. Now, it was nearly 1 in the morning, only a few stragglers left on the dance floor, and Bucky was more than drunk. Clint and Carol eyed him nervously, but were, thankfully, keeping their mouths shut. Bucky didn’t need a lecture about his drinking. Not right now. He was blissed out from a good fuck and more than enough vodka. He sighed and rested his forehead on the table, which was blessfully cool against his warm skin. I could sleep right here, Bucky thought. The table was unnaturally comfortable, though that may have been the vodka talking.

“Alright bud, you ready?” Clint’s words felt like they were coming from miles away and Bucky raised his head. Clint and Carol stood there, each offering an arm to Bucky.

“I can get up myself,” he slurred. He pushed himself up out of the booth, then promptly fell back onto the cushion. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Maybe one vodka too many?” Clint asked. Bucky glared and Clint held his hands up in surrender. Carol gripped Bucky’s arm and hoisted him up.

“Oh you’re strong,” Bucky giggled. Carol just rolled her eyes and got his arm over her shoulders.

“Grab his other side,” she ordered. Clint followed her direction and, with minimal trouble, they got Bucky into the passenger seat of his car. He let his head fall back against the seat and closed his eyes. The world was starting to spin and it made his stomach feel all fluttery. And not in the good way, like when he looked at Steve. Bucky’s eyes shot open and then closed again. Fuck. Fuck, he needed to cut off that line of thinking right now. Johnny had already looked too similar to Steve and Bucky needed his thoughts to be way more pure when it came to the farmhand. There was a quiet thunk and suddenly Clint was in the car. He started the engine and pulled out of the lot, giving Carol one last wave. They drove in silence for a while, but Bucky could practically feel Clint looking at him with those puppy dog eyes every few minutes.

“If you have somethin’ to say, say it.” Bucky’s voice was more monotonous than he wanted, but he was too drunk to really care.

“You haven’t gone that hard in a while is all,” Clint murmured. “And you never give up the chance to dance. But you did tonight and I just,” he paused, looking for the right words, “I just feel like there is more to this than you’re letting on.” Bucky looked out the window and up at the stars.

“You know that new farmhand?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s,” Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, “He’s beautiful, Clint,” he whispered. “He’s beautiful and kind and gets along with my sisters and the moment I saw him I…” He pressed his palm to his eye, trying to push the tears that were threatening to come away. “You can see how good he is, you know? He radiates this...goodness and I fuckin’ shit you not my heart skipped a beat. I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but I almost might now.” He heard Clint suck in a breath.

“Fuck, dude.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “Fuck. Because I can’t,” he choked out, “I can’t fuckin’ bring him down with me.” His breath was shaky and wet, tears beginning to spill from the corner of his eyes, and Bucky inhaled sharply. “Fuck, fuck Clint pull over I’m gonna be fuckin’ sick.” Clint swerved to the side of the road, coming to a jerky stop, and Bucky was already out the door, heaving. It stung in the back of his throat, and he felt his nose start to run, and Clint was seeing him like this…

Clint’s hand grabbed his shoulder, squeezing gently. Bucky stopped heaving, panting for air, and Clint wrapped him in a tight hug. Bucky sagged against him, more tired now than anything else. They sat there for a while, just breathing, until Bucky pulled away. Wordlessly, the two got back into the car and Clint began to drive again. They drove in silence for only a short time.

“Bucky,” Clint said gently.

“Please--”

“I just wanna know what you meant by bring him down with you.” Bucky stared at the roof of the car.

“I’m a failure, right?” Bucky voice was empty, emotionless. “I’m the lazy one, the black sheep. It’s fine for me to be this way.” He let out a puff of air. “I mean, I’m already a fuckin’ waste, might as well be a faggot right?” Bucky closed his eyes, wishing he had blacked out. Clint didn’t respond. Clint always had a comment, so Bucky looked over, seeing him gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. “Nothin’ to say?”

“What can I say,” Clint grit out. “Your father is a fucking bastard?” His voice raised on the last word and he cut himself off, scowling. Bucky stared at him. Clint was so angry and it made Bucky’s chest tighten. Bucky loved his sisters, but he’d always wanted a brother too. He looked away, feeling too much, and they finished the car ride in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first kiss scene, because I couldn't control myself, and god, is it gay.
> 
> Anyway, I don't know jack about farms or cars, so hopefully I'm not too far off in my very, very vague descriptions of the happenings.
> 
> Unbeta'd. Steve and Bucky finally actually kind of talk to each other. If u have any comments, pls be gentle I am a fragile Leo and thrive off of attention.
> 
> Slow burns are hard yo. I want them to just kiss already :/

Bucky awoke with a splitting headache, a mouth that tasted like something had died in it, and, unfortunately, a very clear memory of what had happened the night before. He groaned, turning over. He then immediately turned back around to avoid the sun leaking in through the blinds. Nuzzling into his pillow, which smelled a lot like Clint for some reason, Bucky tried his hardest to will himself to get up. He might have stayed that way forever, but he heard a door slam and decided cracking eye open might be something he could stand. His room looked a lot like Clint’s living room for some reason. Probably because this was Clint’s living room. Bucky sat up, as quickly as he could manage, and looked around. The clock said it was 8:33 in the morning, which mean Bucky was late home and somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Suddenly there was someone in front of him and he looked up, blearly, and squinted at Clint.

“Morning, sunshine,” Clint sang. He was horribly tone deaf, which might have had something to do with also being mostly deaf, and Bucky grimaced.

“Fuck, Clint, please my night was shitty enough,” Bucky groaned. Clint snickered but quickly sobered up.

“Listen, Bucky, about last night--”

“I really don’t wanna get into it,” Bucky cut him off. “Not… Not right now.” It was too early, he was too hungover, and it was something he wasn’t even sure he could talk about without being fucking smashed. Clint sighed, resigned.

“Okay, okay. You good to drive home, or do you want me to drive?” Clint was a blessed friend and Bucky didn’t deserve him.

“I’m fucked enough as it is,” Bucky grumbled, “I’ll be able to make it home myself.” He sat up, closing his eyes against the wave of nausea that came along with it, and pushed through the dizziness so he could stand. “If I’m lucky I’ll crash the car on the way,” Bucky joked. He looked at Clint, his smile freezing when he saw Clint was deadly serious.

“Don’t joke about that, Bucky,” Clint said. Bucky swallowed and looked away. He should’ve kept his fat mouth shut last night.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He grabbed his keys, gave Clint a brief hug, and left. The drive home was slow going, each bump in the road making Bucky’s stomach turn, and he had to stop a few times to puke on the side of the road. When he got home, the house was quiet, which wasn’t entirely weird, just unusual for that time of morning. Bucky closed his car door quietly and went inside, keeping an eye out for his mother and father. Winnie would worry and George would yell, and Bucky didn’t want to deal with either of those options. He made it as far as the bottom of the stairs before someone noticed him.

“I thought you would’ve been back last night,” Becca said. Bucky jumped, wincing at how the movement jarred his brain, and turned to face his sister.

“I, uh, drank a little more than I should have,” he mumbled. Her eyes narrowed and zeroed in on his neck. “What?” Bucky looked down, wondering if he had thrown up on himself in the night and Clint hadn’t mentioned it, but there was nothing on his shirt or collar.

“You better have a good story ready for that,” she said, pointing at his neck again, “Because that hickey could be seen a block away.” Bucky blanched and slapped his hand over the area she had pointed to. Fuck. He had tried to be so careful too, but Johnny must have snuck further up his chest than he had thought. Trying to will away the embarrassment and shame, Bucky shrugged.

“I’ll just say I don’t remember, that’s close enough to the truth anyway.” Becca’s frown turned from frustrated to worried, but Bucky had had quite enough of that lately. “Did dad leave anythin’ for me to do today?”

“He wanted you to clean out the coop and barn, do the afternoon milkin’, and then see what Steve and Brock need help with,” Becca said, her voice tight. Bucky gave her a once over and noticed she was way tenser than normal.

“Hey, Becks, is something wrong?” Bucky touched her arm gently and she pulled away.

“No,” she replied icily. Bucky realized he probably deserved that. He couldn’t demand honesty from her while lying. He sighed and nodded, then turned to go to his room. She didn’t stop him.

\---

Bucky was shoveling shit when Rumlow came into the barn. Bucky ignored him, figuring he was just grabbing some tools, but Brock hung around, watching Bucky work. He side eyed Brock, who was looking at him with an air of smugness, and tried his best to continue ignoring the man. Brock Rumlow was an annoying piece of shit and Bucky was not about to let him make his morning any worse. Brock, however, had ideas of his own.

“Missed you this morning,” he drawled. Bucky rolled his eyes and kept shoveling. “Rough night?” Bucky heard him walking over and finally straightened up, leveling Brock with a cold stare. Brock just smirked. “What’s got you all sour? Didn’t get fucked hard enough?” Bucky felt a cold shiver run down his back, but he ignored it. Rumlow always talked like this, it wasn’t anything new, and as far as Bucky could tell, he didn’t actually know anything.

“Are you done? I have things to do,” Bucky grit out. Brock held up his hands in mock defense.

“What got up your ass? Same guy that gave you that hickey?” Bucky didn’t stop himself fast enough and went to cover the mark, aborting the movement halfway through. He began to breathe faster, heart rate skyrocketing. Now, Brock was an asshole, but he was smart. Bucky’s eyes snapped to him, and going by the dangerous smile that was growing on his face, Bucky knew he had royally fucked up. “Oh,” Brock said, voice light. “Curious.” Bucky lowered his hand and went back to shovelling. “I had my suspicions, you know. But I could never prove it.”

“You still can’t,” Bucky said, pursing his mouth when he realized what he said.

“Don’t think your dad will need much in the way of proof,” Brock said, and Bucky froze. He breathed in deeply, letting out a rush of air through his nostrils. He waited for his hands to stop shaking before turning to look at Brock.

“What do you want, Brock,” Bucky said. He didn’t need to ask; Rumlow would only mention his father if he wanted to use this as blackmail. Bucky couldn’t even say he was surprised. Brock picked up a pair of small gardening shears, twirling them in one hand.

“Well, you see, your father really wants to keep the farm in the family. But you and I both know you’d fuck this farm over.” Bucky just listened, glaring at Brock. He could feel sweat run down his temple and tried to keep his breathing even. “Now, I’ve mentioned my interest to your father, but he hasn’t ever seemed interested in giving the farm over. So I thought I might convince him if I did join the family.” Bucky furrowed his brow.

“By what, getting adopted?” Bucky couldn’t help himself. Rebellion and sass were two attributes he was born with and barely able to control.

“By marrying your sister, Becca,” Brock answered. Bucky scoffed, loudly.

“That,” he said, “Will never fuckin’ happen.”

“It’ll happen if you help me.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance,” Bucky spat. “Tell my father what you think you know. Go right ahead. Because I ain’t doin’ shit.” He turned back to the pile of poop, shoveling it aggressively. He barely had time to react to the footsteps before he was being shoved into the pile of dung. He spat some out, nearly retching, and growled at Brock’s retreating back. The fucker never attacked when someone was facing him; he was a backstabbing coward with no honor. Bucky got up, grumbling, and stalked back toward the house, furious. Bucky counted to ten over and over.

What a fucking piece of shit. How dare he? Becca was fucking 16! Bucky clenched his fists and slammed the house door open, making Martha and Ruth jump in fright. He stomped up the stairs, feeling guilty, but so angry he could barely think. When he got to his room he ripped off his shirt, throwing it to the floor. He took deep breaths, but quickly stopped since he still smelled horrible. He wrenched off the rest of his clothes, stomped into the bathroom, and got into the shower. The water was cold, stinging when it splattered on his skin, but he didn’t care. He scrubbed furiously at his head and face, but not before throwing up and washing out his mouth.

Bucky glared at the tiles. While Brock could ruin his relationship with his father, he underestimated the Barnes’s protectiveness when it came to family. George was a fucking bastard, but he had some morals. Plus, he underestimated Becca. She was strong, in both brains and brawn, and wouldn’t allow Rumlow anywhere near her. Bucky sighed, rolling his shoulders and shutting off the water. He got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. When he opened the door he jumped; Becca was standing there.

“Mom is downstairs calming Martha and Ruth down after you, apparently, stormed in like a man with intent to kill, and scared the shit outta them,” she said, angry. “What the fuck?” Bucky looked at her, her eyes burning, and then pulled her into a hug. It threw her off and she stumbled. Bucky squeezed her tightly and let out a shuddery breath. Becca slowly brought her arms up and returned the hug. “Bucky?”

“Just,” he swallowed, “Rumlow. Being an asshole. He pushed me into a pile of cow shit.” Becca snorted, then held Bucky tighter.

“There’s more than that,” she said. Bucky sagged and pulled away. Becca held onto his arms. “Stop pulling away, Bucky!” She was angry again, but he could feel the sadness and worry behind it. “You want to protect me? You want me to stop worrying? Talk to me!” Bucky nodded and led her to his room. She seemed surprised he agreed, but was obviously more than ready to talk. Bucky gestured for her to turn around and she rolled her eyes, but turned and waited for him to change. When he finished he sat on the bed. She sat next to him and waited, letting him take time to find the words. Bucky figured it was best to rip the band aid off.

“I’m gay, Becks,” he said. He swallowed around the lump that followed, wondering when his hands started shaking.

“I’ll be honest,” she said. “I kind of suspected. But what does that have to do with Rumlow?” She furrowed her brow. “Did he threaten you?”

“He tried. He… He noticed my hickey and made a comment. I let it get to me and he, well, figured it out.” Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He tried to blackmail me to help him get our farm.” Becca snorted.

“Like dad would ever,” she laughed.

“He wanted me to convince you to marry him.” Becca stopped laughing, face slack with shock. It quickly switched to fury, then confusion, and back to fury again. She opened her mouth to say something, but Bucky cut her off. “I told him he could tell dad whatever he wanted about me, because I would fuckin’ never do that to you.” She breathed harshly, fists clenching and unclenching, before slowly starting to calm down.

“He threatened to tell dad you’re gay?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna remind him that dad takes family seriously and wouldn’t take too kindly to him bein’ a fuckin’ creep.” Becca scowled and looked away. “What?” Bucky tensed up and stood, anger rising again. “Do you think dad would actually--?”

“No, no,” she said, too quickly. Then she looked away, anger and resignation fighting in her eyes and expression. “Maybe. Not now of course, but in two years? Maybe. It’d be the only way he’d let me have the farm.” Bucky took her hands and knelt in front of her.

“I promise you, Becks, you will get the farm without having to marry that piece of shit.” His goal was to make her laugh, and though she didn’t do so, she did smile. They looked at each other, two rebels in the home of a dictator, and silently promised to stand together. Becca smiled after a while.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For telling me.” Bucky looked away.

“It’s where I go, most of the time,” he murmured, unsure if he could speak with his full voice. “And,” he bit down on his tongue. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her. There wasn’t anything more to it than Bucky being unable to control himself. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just,” he swallowed around the lump that had decided to make permanent residence in his throat, “I just didn’t want you to think I’m a failure too. I can’t even love right.” Becca wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I forgive you. And you’re not a failure.” She said. “In fact, I don’t think there’s a way you could love wrong.” Bucky scoffed quietly, but said nothing. They sat quietly for a moment before she snickered to herself. “Now, what was this about manure?”

——-

In the afternoon, after he finished cleaning the barn and coop, Bucky made his way to the fields. He was halfway out when the truck passed by and stopped. Bucky turned, steeling himself for another tense afternoon with Rumlow, but Steve got out of the driver’s side.

“Hey, Bucky!” Steve had a shy smile on his face, his body crunched in a little in nervousness. Bucky walked over, stamping down on the blush he seemed to permanently wear around Steve.

“Hey, need help?” Bucky knew he was supposed to go to the fields and help there, but he didn’t want to be around Rumlow, or his dad. Besides, it would be rude not to talk to Steve, right?

“Yeah, actually,” Steve replied. He gestured for Bucky to come over. When Bucky joined him, Steve popped the lid of the truck. “First, the truck has been making this weird rattling sound, and Becca had said you were good with cars, so I was wondering if you could take a look?” Bucky nodded.

“Where’s the rattling comin' from? The engine or under the car? Inside?” Bucky popped open the hood, taking a quick glance inside. Nothing seemed to be out of place or loose, but he wasn’t looking for anything more than surface trouble, so it was hard to tell for sure.

“I think under?” Steve came up beside him. He smelled like sweat and dirt, but it was sweeter coming off him than anyone else Bucky had known. “It’s kinda more toward the back, but I’ve always had a little troubling placing sounds.” He smiled at Bucky, who smiled back.

“No worries. Let me give it a quick look.” He bent down, looking under the truck as best he could without a flashlight. “Well, it looks like it might be somethin' with the exhaust. The pipes look a little loose and maybe a bit rusted.” He stood, wiped his hands on his pants, and turned to Steve. Steve was looking away, his cheeks slightly red. Must have worked hard and gotten too warm. He’d probably want water when they got back. “It should be good to make it back to the house, but I wouldn’t drive it after that. Not until I’ve really checked it out.” Steve nodded.

“Well, why don’t you ride back with me? The second thing I was gonna ask was help unloading, so, might as well, right?” Steve climbed into the driver’s seat and Bucky went around to hop into the passengers side.

“Might as well,” Bucky agreed. The two rode in companionable silence all the way back to the house.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again:
> 
> Unbeta'd  
> This is for fun, hope you like it  
> Bucky has a goddamn martyr complex so he and Steve are perfect for each other  
> This is going off the rails but hopefully I'll get my shit together
> 
> Bucky and Steve actually interact in this one, for like, more than a paragraph

The exhaust was loose and rusted. Bucky scowled as he came out from under the truck, oil and dirt smudged on his face. His father would not be happy at needing to replace it, but the car wasn’t driveable without the fix. Bucky sighed and rubbed his temples. He could cut costs by doing the repair himself, but it was a toss up on price from the shop; they were great sometimes, giving discounts, and other times Bucky knew he was being screwed, but couldn’t do anything since they were the only shop in town.

“Did… Did I break it?” Steve voice shocked Bucky out of his ruminating, and when Bucky looked up, Steve had shrunk into himself. Bucky shook his head.

“No, no! Don’t worry,” Steve relaxed the tiniest bit, “This comes with owning a truck. It just hasn’t been looked at in long enough.” Steve smiled wanly. He wrung his hands together nervously, and Bucky suddenly remembered he had been fired from his last job. He cursed himself quietly before heading inside. He gestured for Steve to follow. “I gotta go into town and see what the price of the parts are, and George has to okay it, but if you want, I can show you what happened and how to fix it.” It was selfish, Bucky thought. He wanted to spend time with Steve, though he knew he shouldn’t fan the fire, but he also wanted to convince Steve of the truth. It wasn’t his fault the truck was a piece of shit and Rumlow didn’t take care of it.

“Really?” Bucky looked up at the hopefulness in Steve’s voice and nearly choked. He was so sincere, so earnest, his eyes bright, and Bucky could only smile weakly and nod.

“Of course. It’ll go easier with two pairs of hands too,” he said. Bucky could do this kind of fix in his sleep, but Steve didn’t need to know that. “Want to come along to town? I mean,” Bucky quickly backtracked, “I’m sure you have more to do out in the fields, but if you wanted to come that’d be fine.” Steve smiled.

“George and Brock said that this was the last batch to bring in,” he said, gesturing the bundles of vegetables they had hauled in. “I was just gonna go relax in my caravan for the afternoon, but uh, I’d love to come.”

“Are you going into town?” Winnie’s voice came from the kitchen and she soon followed it. “I need some more jars for jams and preserves, could you grab some? Actually,” she said, turning to rifle through the drawers of the mail table, “I should have a short list of things I need…Aha!” She pulled out a small strip of paper and handed it to Bucky. “Let me grab some money from my purse.” And she was gone again. Bucky glanced down at the list. There wasn’t much, mostly different cloths and yarns, so Bucky figured they could still go to the auto shop first. Winnie returned, handing Bucky some cash. Bucky counted it and frowned. “Mom, this is--”

“Get Martha’s present while you’re there,” she whispered. Bucky slapped his hand over his mouth, grimacing. “I knew you’d get wrapped up and forget, so don’t worry. She’s got her big gifts all ready to go, but I know she’d appreciate something from just you.” Bucky nodded and gave his mom a quick hug before leading Steve to his car. They got in, waved goodbye to the girls, who were outside playing, and headed into town. They once again drove in silence.

The trip to town was quiet, but successful. The auto shop had the parts for cheap, so Bucky made the decision to buy them right then. His father could yell if he wanted, but he’d get over it. He’d have to, if he ever wanted to drive the truck again. A faulty exhaust system meant death if wasn’t fixed. They put the parts in the trunk of his car and then went to the local fabric store. Bucky just showed Wanda his mother’s list and she took them around the store, grabbing what Winnie needed. Wanda was good like that, and Bucky couldn’t thank her enough for it. Then, it was time to get Martha a gift.

“I don’t even know what my parents got her, and I’m not giving a repeat of a gift,” Bucky complained. He couldn’t even believe he had forgotten Martha’s birthday was coming up. Granted, he had been distracted by quite a few things, but it wasn’t a good excuse. Martha was the youngest, gentlest, and most sensitive of the Barnes children. She dealt with Ruth and Beth with ease, had even the crankiest of store owners on her side in moments, and cried whenever she accidentally stepped on an ant. Bucky loved her fiercely and wanted his gift to show her just how much.

“I helped Winnie build a doll house the other day, so I think it’s a safe bet that they got her one,” Steve said. They were in the local toy shop, browsing through the selection, and Bucky couldn’t find anything that screamed Martha. It was driving him up the wall.

“Okay, well, I guess I could get her a doll to go with…?” Bucky picked one up. It stared at him with unblinking grey eyes and he quickly set it back down.

“I think they got her one to go with, too,” Steve said sheepishly. Bucky groaned. “Well, I mean,” Steve began, stumbling over his words, “She mentioned to me she loves to draw.” Bucky faced him. “She saw me drawing one time and said she wanted to be an artist when she grew up, so…” He trailed off, flushing slightly in embarrassment. “I mean, she could have just been… What I mean is--”

“It’s okay,” Bucky chuckled. “I really appreciate the suggestion! You draw?” Steve nodded, still flushed. “Any suggestions on good materials then? I wanna get her somethin’ fancy, not just crayons, yanno?” Steve lit up and grabbed Bucky’s arm. He pulled him out of the toy store and towards the small craft store. Bucky blushed but willed it away as quickly as it came. He hadn’t seen Steve so excited, but then again, he did avoid too much time with him. This was honestly the first time he’d talked to Steve for more than 5 minutes, and the first time talking to him with no one else there.

“Here!” Steve stopped in front of a large selection of pencils and Bucky stared at the endless array. They made this many different kinds of pencils? He was so out of his depth. Luckily, Steve grabbed a pack and held it up. “These should be good for her to start out with. They’re the first ones I ever got,” he said, smiling softly. “My mom got them for me, and I didn’t know it at the time, but she worked double shifts to get them and some paints for me.” His smile turned sad. Bucky couldn’t stop himself and reached out, gripping Steve’s shoulder firmly.

“I think they look great,” Bucky said. Steve smiled brighter, and it made Bucky’s knees weak. He quickly turned away. “Now we need a sketchbook.” Steve made a beeline for another aisle and Bucky followed. He couldn’t keep the small smile off his face. The excitement Steve had for the supplies made Bucky feel excited, too. He grabbed a nice, sturdy sketchbook, the paper a good weight, with a soft, blue leather covering. It had golden butterflies detailing the corners and the moment Bucky saw it, he knew Martha would love it. The pair made their way to check out and Bucky made sure to get it gift wrapped. Whenever he attempted to wrap gifts on his own, they ended up being a pile of paper and tape.

“So,” Bucky said as they drove back to the farm, “You draw?” Steve flushed.

“A little. I’ve always loved art, but no one really supported me but my mom.” He looked at his hands, sadly, and Bucky hated himself for bringing it up.

“Well, uh, I’d love to see some of your drawings sometime, if you’d let me?” Steve blushed and Bucky hoped he hadn’t embarrassed him. “And I always loved English myself. Couldn’t read enough. And, well, it’s cheesy,” he smiled to himself, “But I’ve always had a soft spot for Shakespeare.”

“Who doesn’t love hidden dick jokes?” Steve said, then winced, shooting Bucky a nervous look from the corner of his eye. Bucky snickered.

“Honestly, yeah,” he laughed. It made Steve relax and Bucky beamed inwardly. “I mean, yeah he’s got beautiful prose, but the way he can just toss in a dick reference, that I’ve always envied.”

“You didn’t strike me a Shakespeare fan,” Steve said. “No offense.”

“Well,” Bucky said, slowly, “I did kind of avoid you. Which is not based on anything you did,” he added hastily, “Just, Rumlow was the last person my dad hired and he fuckin’ sucks, so…” Bucky trailed off, realizing he sounded like an asshole. But then, Steve laughed so hard, tears formed at the corner of his eyes.

“Oh thank god,” he wheezed, “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.” Bucky grinned. “I would have avoided me too.”.

“Keep an eye out, though,” Bucky warned. “He’s a shithead who will trip you up the moment your not looking.” Steve nodded.

“He seemed like a coward,” he murmured.

When they got back to the farm, Steve departed to do final rounds through the fields as well as cleaning up for the end of the day. He waved to Bucky, smiling broadly, and Bucky waved back. After Steve disappeared around the corner of the barn, Bucky went inside. He set the bag of his mom’s things down, ran up and hid Martha’s present in his room, and then came back downstairs.

“Hey Ma! I’m back!” He went into the living room and found Beth, Ruth, and Martha watching cartoons on their small television. “You guys seen Mom?” They wordlessly pointed towards the kitchen. He should have known. It was getting closer to dinner time, so Winnie would be setting the table or finishing up the food about now. The Barnes Farm held a looser schedule, but a schedule all the same. After dropping the bags off in her sewing room, he made his way to the kitchen. Both his mother and Becca were getting the dishes ready to bring out to the table.

“Oh, Bucky!” Winnie shuffled by, arms full with bowls of potatoes and corn. “Could you grab the rolls and plates?”

“Sure thing,” Bucky replied. He grabbed the plates and the rolls, bringing them out to the table. “I put your stuff in your sewing room.”

“Thank you, dear.” She smiled at him and gave him a hug. “Get everything?” She gave him a pointed look and he smiled back.

“Sure did.” She kissed his cheek and went to call the rest of the group to dinner.

\-----

That weekend, they had the party. Becca and Bucky were setting up streamers outside, there was no way the entire elementary school was going to fit inside, when Steve and Brock arrived. Steve quickly made a beeline inside, muttering about helping Winnie with the cake. Bucky watched him go. He turned around at the sound of sniggering. Brock had his arms crossed and he smirked at Bucky before looking over at Becca. He looked her over, grossly admiring her, and Bucky saw red. He jerked away from the wall and stomped over. Brock raised an eyebrow and Bucky grabbed his arm, yanking him to the shed.

“What the hell?” Brock barked. “Let go of me!” Bucky whirled around him, fire in his veins.

“Listen to me, you disgusting prick,” he seethed, shocking Brock, “If you so much as look at my sister the wrong way again, I’m going to fucking strangle you.” Brock rolled his eyes. “Act cocky all you want, but my father would join me.” This got Brock’s attention. “He’s incredibly protective of Becca, and if he gets even the slightest idea you are planning anything, he’ll make sure whatever happens to you looks like an accident.” Bucky was hissing through clenched teeth at this point. His fists had found themselves with Rumlow’s collar bunched in them, making sure he was unable to squirm away. “You got that?”

“Got it,” Brock grit out. He shoved Bucky away, glaring. “Fuck you.”

“You wish.” Brock paled and sneered at Bucky before storming away. Bucky let a rush of air out his nose and tried to calm his breathing. What a piece of literal human shit. Why his father kept him on, Bucky had no idea. He jumped and spun around when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Steve startled and pulled his hand back.

“Sorry!” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I saw you standing over here and Rumlow was stomping off so, uh, I thought I would just see if you were okay?” The tips of his ears turned red when he blushed. Bucky found it incredibly cute.

“Uh, I’m,” he sighed, “I’m fine. He just keeps eyeing Becca in a way I don’t like.” Steve’s face darkened in a way Bucky had never seen. It was as intimidating as it was hot.

“Has he now.” Steve’s voice was void of emotion. He looked back, watching as Becca smoothed out the table cloth, and clenched his fists. “I’ll keep an eye out,” he said, turning back to Bucky.

“You don’t have to--” Bucky began, but Steve cut him off.

“I don’t like bullies and I don’t like people who use their power over others for their own benefit,” he bit out. His eyes snapped to Bucky, then away again. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I just get kinda worked up about those things…”

“Someone has to. I’m glad it’s not only me,” Bucky said. He smiled softly at Steve, who flushed and smiled back. A whistle broke them out of their moment, and they both turned to see Becca with her hands on her hips.

“The kids will be arriving soon! Get back over here and stop slacking!” She shouted. Bucky snorted, but he and Steve went back over, setting up the kiddie pools and making sure they had enough plates for each kid.

\-----

The kids were screaming and Bucky wanted to die. He had mud in his hair and on his clothes, each kid having thought he would be a good target for mud pie throwing. Although he took it in stride, Bucky was ready for the kids to wrap up the games and start eating. Becca had laughed at him after he tried to switch with her, seeing as she was watching over the crafts table, and he had never felt so betrayed in his life. Steve had offered to do face painting and there was no fuss. Martha had lit up at the suggestion and he still had a long line of mud covered kids waiting. Bucky watched him work. Steve was good with kids.

“So then,” a young boy with his front teeth missing said, “I climbed up on top of the metal gym and pushed Flash off!” He beamed in triumph. “Then, Martha and I joined forces and ruled the playground together!”

“Good,” Steve replied, his word honest and sincere. “Though Flash could have gotten hurt, falling off one of those.” The young boy, who must have been the Peter that Martha had mentioned from school, flushed but shrugged.

“I guess, but he was being so mean!” Peter threw his hands up and Steve gracefully moved his brush so the boy wouldn’t end up with a giant streak on his cheek. “He said that he didn’t care what we wanted and he was going to make all the rules!” Steve pursed his lips, nodding.

“Well, I suppose if he wasn’t gonna listen, you had to make sure he did.” He pulled his hand back and put down the brush. “Alright, Pete, you’re all done. And remember, if you’re gonna fight, always get back up.” Peter nodded, smiling, and bounced off to the craft table where Martha was drawing. Bucky was excited to give her his present. After Steve had mentioned her love of drawing, Bucky had tried to pay closer attention to her habits. And Steve was right. If she wasn’t playing with Ruth or helping their mother, she was drawing. Bucky was annoyed he hadn’t been paying enough attention to her as of late, too focused on his own issues. But he was going to do better.

“Cake time!” Winnie called. The kids swarmed the massive table they had set up, which blessedly fit all 23 children, and Winnie carefully set the cake down in the middle of the table with Beth’s help. It was a large sheet cake, decorated with beautiful flowers and butterflies that seemed ready to fly off the cake. Bucky shot Steve a look, who blushed and shrugged, trying to play it off.

After cake was presents.

Martha was ecstatic about the doll house and doll. She squealed and hugged both the house and doll, her wide smile lined with the chocolate frosting from the cake. Her friends got her an array of coloring books, toys, and a few board games that Bucky was pretty sure would only see the light of day if there was absolutely nothing else Martha wanted to do. When it came time to hand her his gift, Bucky tried to shake off his jitters. He knew she would like it, but would she love it? Bucky cleared his throat, capturing Martha’s attention, and handed her the neatly wrapped box. She tore it open, lifted the lid off the box, and stared inside it in awe. Winnie peeked over her shoulder and chuckled, winking at Bucky, who smiled back.

“Those are genuine artist tools,” he said, gesturing to the box. She stared up at him, mouth agape. “I even got Steve’s seal of approval on them. He said they’re the best to start with.” Martha’s lip began to quiver. She scrunched up her nose and tears began to spill from her eyes. Bucky knelt down, shocked. “I mean, I can return them! If you don’t want them!” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as fiercely as a newly 11 year old could.

“I love them, Bucky! Thank you thank you thank you!” She pulled back, wiping her eyes but smiling wide. “Now I’ll be a real artist! Just like Steve!” Said man blushed at this, looking down shyly. Bucky gave her another hug and then stepped back, letting the party continue. George was frowning, eyeing Bucky and Steve both.

“You shouldn’t give her ideas about being an artist,” he grumbled, making sure only they could hear. “She’ll never be able to make it.” Bucky’s hackles rose and he grit his teeth.

“She’ll do what she wants,” he replied, angrily. “I don’t see the trouble in supporting her in something she obviously enjoys.”

“It’ll never make her enough money to live on,” George said, voice rising slightly.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make sure she has a husband who can provide for her,” Bucky sneered. “I’m surprised you even want her to have a job at all.” George gripped his collar and pulled, yanking Bucky close.

“You will not speak to me that way,” he snarled. And Bucky snapped.

“What? Like the way you speak to me?” He shoved his father back, who looked at him with shock and anger. “Like the way you speak to everyone in this fucking family? What am I supposed to think, huh? How am I supposed to react when the only thing you seem to be able to do for this family is make us feel like shit?” His voice was rising and he couldn’t stop it. He was so angry. Angry with Brock. Angry with his father. Angry with himself. Winnie came over and began pushing both Bucky and George inside.

“Do not do this here, do you hear me?” Her voice was tight with repressed emotion, but Bucky couldn’t tell if it was anger or fear. Maybe both. “If either of you ruin this birthday, I swear, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty!” She huffed back outside. The tension that had diffused when she intervened rose again, humming in the air. Bucky turned and looked at his father.

“I know you hate me,” he said, quiet but tense, “And think every decision I’ve made is the wrong one. I’ve made peace with that. But just,” he ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace, “Don’t bring Martha into it. Or Beth. Or Ruth. Or Becca.” George watched him, silent. “I mean, I know you have your idea of what we all should do and be, but at some point you’re gonna have to realize we want things too. I mean,” he snorted, “You’ve been trying to make me want to take over the farm my entire life, ignoring the fact that Becca knows way more than I do, cares about making this farm work and work well, and making her fuckin’ miserable.” George opened his mouth to speak, but Bucky cut him off. “I don’t care if you think it’s not dainty enough, or whatever fuckin’ reason you have, it’s what she wants and honestly, it’s what the farm needs.” Bucky deflated, the wind in his sails receding.

“You done?” George asked gruffly. Bucky nodded. His father sighed. “You never know when to quit, do you?” Bucky smirked and shook his head. “I know I’m not the best father,” Bucky rolled his eyes and George shot him a warning look, “But I want what’s best for you. And, maybe, I was wrong.” Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll still need your help, but I’ll think about where would be a good place for Becca to start learning. For now.” Saying Bucky was surprised was a god damn understatement. His father had never listened to him once in his life, why was he starting now?

But, Bucky wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He nodded, feeling the most pleased he ever had after talking to his dad. Before his father could shoo him away, Bucky left, making a beeline for Steve. Said man perked up when Bucky came out, worry all over his handsome face. Bucky shook his head and Steve stood down, still worried, but looking decidedly less like he was going to come running. Bucky came up next to him, knocked his hip against Steve’s to get him to smile, and began to help clean up the mess of a birthday party gone well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just so y'all picture it just right, the swimsuits they wear are 50s-esque. So like, hot pants. Booty shorts. So there is plenty of leg for Bucky to ogle.
> 
> Un-beta'd. I usually give it a go over, but I didn't this time so,,  
> I don't know how farms work.  
> I just like gay farmers.

The next few weeks were some of the most peaceful. June flowed into July, the heat starting to get more pressing, storms following suit. Bucky spent most of his days showing Becca what to do. It usually consisted of Becca doing the work she already knew how to do with Bucky’s help. He’d never seen his sister so engaged and excited as when she was covered in chicken shit. When he wasn’t helping her, Bucky spent his time talking with Steve, visiting Clint, or helping his mother with her chores. Namely, watching over Beth, Ruth, and Martha.

“She pulled my pigtail!”

“Well she knocked over my stick tower!”

“You knocked it over yourself!”

“I’ll knock you over!”

Bucky rubbed his fingers against his temples, trying to will his headache away. Beth and Ruth had lost whatever peace they had found earlier in the summer and boy, it was starting to get draining.

“Listen, both of you,” Bucky snapped, grabbing their attention. “At this point, it doesn’t matter who started it. Apologize to each other.”

“But-!” They both protested.

“I don’t care! Both of you reacted poorly! Now apologize or I’ll go get Mom,” he threatened. It seemed to do the job, both girls grumbling an apology, and Bucky relaxed. They stomped off in opposite directions and Bucky leaned against the porch railing.

“The girls fighting again?” Bucky looked at Steve and nodded. “Well, I’m sure they’ll make up soon enough.” Bucky sure fucking hoped so.

“Hey, what are you up to this afternoon?”

“Nothing really, your dad gave me the afternoon off.”

“Wanna go swimming?” Bucky was dancing with the devil, but it was hot and swimming really did seem like a good idea, half naked Steve aside. Steve flushed and looked away, taking a step back.

“Oh, uh, I dunno, maybe I should hang around in case, uh, in case your dad needs me?” Steve was rambling and stammering and Bucky narrowed his eyes at him.

“You sure? My friends Clint and Nat will be there and I think you’d like them.”

“Oh?” Steve squeaked out. Bucky narrowed his eyes even more.

“Can you not swim or something? Because ‘swimming’ is really more splashing each other while sitting in the shallow part of the lake, so if that’s what’s eating you--”

“No, no! I’d uh,” Steve blushed again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I’d love to join y’all. If it’s not too much trouble. I’m sure you want time with your friends.” Bucky hopped off the porch and made his way over to Steve. He pulled him into a headlock, giving him a noogie while also focusing very intently on where their skin made contact.

“Of course it’s no trouble, Stevie. I invited you,” Bucky teased. When he let Steve go, the other man was blushing and smiling. Bucky had hoped for a laugh, but a smile would do. Anything to make sure Steve wasn’t sad. God, Bucky thought, I’m so fucking pathetic.

“Well, I have a few more things to finish up before I can leave,” Steve began. Bucky waved him off.

“No worries,” Bucky said. “Wanna meet up around 1? I’ll see if my mom’ll pack a picnic for us all.” Bucky chuckled. “Honestly, I don’t think she’ll let me leave without one.” Steve grinned and walked off, heading back towards the fields. Bucky watched him go, because, really, that ass was something sculpted by the gods, before dashing inside to call Clint and Natasha. So maybe he lied a little when he said they were all going, but Steve was backing out and Bucky had been desperate. Natasha picked up the phone.

“Barton and Romanov residence,” she said.

“Hey, Nat, it’s me. I was wondering if you and Clint wanted to go swimming today?”

“I’d be interested,” she drawled. “Once Clint wakes up I’ll ask him, but I highly doubt he’d say no.”

“Sweet, Steve and I are gonna head out around 1, and we’ll come pick you up--”

“Oh,” she said, voice rising in the slightest. “Steve’s joining us?” Her tone was innocent, but Bucky knew better.

“I thought y’all would get along, but now I’m having regrets.”

“Tell me, James,” and that was not a good sign, “Were you originally planning to invite us at all?” He knew she did super secret stuff, but her ability to read him even through the phone was freaky.

“I’m hanging up now. My mom’ll pack us a picnic.”

“Make sure to bring pickled onions,” she said.

“I don’t know why you like them so much,” Bucky groaned.

“The bitterness.”

“Okay, Nat, see you later.” He hung up, smiling, and went to find his mother.

\-----

Bucky had just finished putting the basket in the back of the car when Steve jogged up. Bucky turned to look and promptly felt his mouth go dry. Steve had on a dark blue swimsuit that clung to the top of his thighs, which were way more muscled than Bucky had thought, and a white t-shirt that seemed stretched to the max or his chest and biceps. Bucky licked his lips, almost unconsciously, and tried to will his growing arousal away. Maybe this hadn’t been his best idea. Hopefully, the water would be freezing and help him out.

“Alright, Stevie, ready to go?” Bucky slapped the roof of the car twice before climbing in. Steve followed suit, placing his folded towel over his lap after buckling up. Bucky backed the car out of the long driveway and took off towards town.

“So,” Steve said, “How long have you known Clint and Natasha?”

“Well, I’ve known Clint since I was 16, but I’ve only known Natasha for a few years now. 3? Maybe 4?” He shrugged. “Honestly, it feels like I’ve known her longer than that, but it could be because she has this uncanny ability to look right through you, like to the core, almost the moment she sees you.” Steve shifted.

“Really?” Bucky might have imagined it, but Steve sounded nervous.

“I mean, she’s not like, weird about it.” He winced. “Well, she mostly not weird about it. I’m not totally sure what she does, but I’m like 78% sure she’s a spy.” Steve chuckled at that.

“She sounds interesting.”

“She’s really one of a kind. I dunno why she loves Clint, he’s practically a human disaster, but she’s apparently head over heels for him. I mean, that’s what Clint says.” He smiled softly. “I see her watching him sometimes with this smile on her face that I’m positive she reserves for only him.”

“That’s incredibly sweet,” Steve said, slightly awed.

“You don’t know the half of it. Clint used to be part of a travelling circus until he found some steady work here in town. He was, I think, a trapeze artist or somethin’?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. He also gets into too many fights to count, he eats almost exclusively pizza, and yet Natasha looks at him…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Whatever the reason, I’m happy for both of them.” At that, Bucky pulled into the lot by Clint’s apartment building and honked twice. “Hopefully Natasha will hear that,” he said. “Clint usually takes his hearing aids out for swimming.” Bucky turned to Steve. “Oh, yeah, uh, Clint’s mostly deaf and usually wears hearing aids, but he’s a damn good lip reader and Natasha usually translates for him when she can.”

“I actually know some sign language,” Steve said. Bucky raised his brows, impressed. “I had a lot of fluid in my ears as a kid, but mostly in the right one. It made it really difficult to hear so I used sign language sometimes.” He shrugged. “Things cleared up a lot by the time I was 12, so I didn’t use it long, but I remember most of what I learned.”

“Well,” Bucky hummed, “You’re just a bag of surprises aren’t you, Rogers.” Steve blushed and looked away. Bucky jumped when someone banged on the hood of his car. He jerked around and scowled as Clint howled with laughter. He was still laughing when he and Natasha got in the car.

“Oh, your face!” He had calmed into giggles now. “Looked like a goddamn deer in headlights.”

“Fuck you, Clint,” Bucky said, without any real heat.

“Are we going to actually go to the lake, or just laugh at Bucky,” Natasha said, signing as she spoke. “I mean, I’m willing to do either, but it’s fucking hot out and swimming sounds real nice.” Bucky started the car back up, made sure the back windows had been rolled down, and made his way out of the parking lot.

“Alright you two,” Bucky said once they were on their way, “This up here is Steve Rogers. Treat him nice, alright?” Clint leaned forward, resting his arms on the back of the front seat, grinning widely.

“Hello, Steve. Heard lots about you,” he said. Bucky twisted his arm so he could shove Clint while driving.

“Good things, I hope,” Steve said.

“Very good,” Clint replied. Steve smiled, a little nervous and confused.

“Ignore Clint,” Natasha said. “He’s like that. I’m Natasha, the better half, and we’re both excited to meet you. Bucky’s glad to have more help wrangling his sisters, and apparently you’re pretty good at it.” Steve shrugged.

“I mean, I just draw flowers for them sometimes, it’s not much.”

“Well, it’s appreciated either way,” she remarked.

\-----

The lake was a very popular spot in the summer; families, couples, and friends would crowd the north side of the lake. The north beach was crowded and loud and Bucky hated it. Not too long after they met, he and Clint had gone exploring the area. It was then that they found a secluded spot, hidden away on the south eastern side of the lake. There were some bluffs between their small beach and the main shore line, which made it the perfect secret beach they could have to themselves.

“OUT OF THE WAY!” Clint bellowed, taking off towards the water at full speed. Bucky and Nat rolled their eyes, but followed Clint. Steve had the picnic basket, so Nat and Bucky set up the blanket. Clint was splashing in the water, laughing and stomping, collecting rocks to toss later. Natasha relaxed on the blanket, pulling out sunscreen and gently applying it to her arms. Bucky whipped off his shirt, jogging a few feet towards the water before turning and looking to Steve, who had remained standing after putting down the basket, looking lost.

“Race you,” Bucky said, smiling. Steve grinned, whipped his shirt off, and sprinted off to the water. Bucky followed, distracted by the way Steve’s muscles worked under his shoulders and the way his calves tensed as he ran. Steve nearly barreled into Clint, who gave him a high five before pointing at Bucky and laughing. Steve smiled, not even winded from his sprint, and turned to Bucky.

Bucky’s breath caught in his chest and he stumbled. The sun glistened on the water, reflecting up onto Steve’s golden skin. He looked carefree and happy, his smile making something clench fiercely in Bucky’s chest. Bucky managed to smile back before tackling Clint into the water. Steve moved out of the way, blocking the splash of water with his arms, laughing. Clint wriggled out of Bucky’s grasp, fighting to tackle him back.

“Careful,” Natasha called, not sounding worried or concerned in the slightest.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky gasped, squirming away from Clint and hiding behind Steve. “Uncle, okay, uncle!” Clint gave him a shit eating grin before flopping back into the water and floating.

“This is perfect,” he said. “You had a good idea for once, Barnes!” Bucky shoved him under the water again and Clint resurfaced, laughing. Steve had made his way back closer to shore, sitting in the low tide. Bucky watched him, but turned away before Steve could catch him looking. Clint slung an arm over his shoulders and leaned in. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“No,” Bucky replied, truthfully. “But he needs friends besides me and my sisters. And it really is hot today.” Bucky knew that going swimming with Steve really was asking for trouble, but he felt selfish, keeping Steve to himself. And maybe if he desensitized himself to Steve and Steve’s perfection, things would get easier. It wasn’t the best idea, but it was something. Clint nodded.

“Well, if he’s a friend of yours, he’s a friend of mine. No question.”

“Sap,” Bucky teased.

“I’m being nice and this is how you repay me?” Bucky snorted and shoved him. Clint let himself fall back and began floating again. Bucky left him, smiling and shaking his head. When he turned around, he thought he saw Steve quickly look away from him, but he probably imagined it. Steve’s cheeks were red when he came and sat next to him.

“Having any fun yet?” Bucky said as he leaned back on his elbows, letting the water lap at his torso.

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly. He dragged his fingers through the sand, creating divots that the tide soon washed away. “Thank you for letting me come.”

“Steve,” Bucky said firmly. “You’re my friend. You don’t need to feel like you’re horning in on anything. Clint thinks you’re swell and Natasha has talked to you which, honestly, is a really good sign. You’d know immediately if she didn’t like you.” He snickered. “God, wish you had seen the one time she met Rumlow.”

“Yeah?” Steve replied, smiling softly down at Bucky. Bucky swallowed, looking back out at the lake.

“Yeah. She ignored him for most of it, but when he tried to get her attention, she twisted his wrist so sharply she sprained it.” Bucky couldn’t hold back his giggle. “Oh man, his fucking face was priceless. And she hadn’t said a goddamn word to him either. Just nearly broke his wrist.” Steve laughed with him and Bucky felt warmth spread throughout his chest.

After swimming for a while, forcing Clint and Steve to talk more, Bucky headed back to the beach to sit with Natasha. She was laying in the sun, sunglasses perched on her nose, sun hat resting on the blanket next to her. Bucky plopped next to her and began digging in the picnic basket.

“Grab the pickled onions,” she said, not moving. Bucky took them out, handing her a full jar.

“Mom said you could take this jar home with you. She knows you love them.” Natasha sat up at that, humming appreciatively. Bucky grabbed a can of beer, popping the tab and sipping at it. He watched Clint and Steve skipping rocks. Well, to be more accurate, throwing rocks. Steve got some good skips, but Clint wasn’t even trying to skip them at this point, chucking the stone as far as he could.

“So,” Natasha began.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Bucky replied. He didn’t need another chat about how he was pathetically into Steve.

“He looks at you, too,” she said quietly. Bucky gripped his can tighter, making it pop. He looked at the sand, watching an ant make its way across the beach. “Bucky.”

“Even if he did,” he said, breathlessly, “I can’t, Nat. I can’t.” He gulped down more beer, forcing his emotions back down inside him where they couldn’t cause trouble. Natasha didn’t say anything else, just watched him. He couldn’t tell how she was feeling, her eyes covered with sunglasses, but he knew she was calculating. After a moment, she set down her jar of pickled onions and stood up, brushing the sand off her back.

“What d’you think about a game of chicken? You and me against Steve and Clint?” Bucky could have kissed her.

“That sounds like a perfect idea.”

\-----

The sun was just beginning to set when they packed up. Clint was sunburnt and whining, Natasha smirking and “accidentally” bumping into his arm, and Bucky was happy. It had been a fantastic day at the beach, Steve’s perfect body aside, and Bucky felt more relaxed than he had in a long, long time. Steve looked like he felt the same way; his smile was relaxed and open, his body language more confident, rather than shrinking back the way he usually did. Bucky found it hard to look away from him.

There was something about Steve, something about how he held himself or his aura, that made Bucky want to follow him to the ends of the earth. Something that let you know right away that Steve could be trusted, should be listened to. Bucky’s head swam, overwhelmed by the sheer presence of Steve. He had to calm himself down and count to ten, regaining focus so he could drive. The ride home was quiet and subdued. The sun had drained them of what energy they had and both Clint and Steve fell asleep on the way home.

“A good day,” Natasha said quietly, running her fingers through Clint’s hair as he lay curled up on her lap.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed.

“He’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“I can see why you like him.”

“Nat, please, I--”

 

“Bucky,” she said, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp and he quickly shut up. “You won’t stop yourself from falling in love by pretending it’s not happening. The heart doesn’t work that way. Trust me.” He glanced back at her in the rear view mirror, watching as she scratched Clint’s head gently. He looked back at the road.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

\-----

The rest of the evening passed smoothly. Dinner had its usual underlying tension, but that was hard to escape with both Brock and George in the room. Beth, Ruth, and Martha were getting along, a feat which Bucky assumed was all thanks to Becca, and after dinner they pleaded with Steve to help them catch fireflies.

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughter in his voice. “You wore me down.” He pointed to Ruth. “Grab three jars and meet us outside.” Ruth nodded and ran into the kitchen. Bucky followed Steve and his other two sisters outside, sitting on the porch to watch from afar. Becca joined him, Ruth close behind her, and the two older Barnes siblings watched as Steve showed the younger three how to appropriately catch the bugs.

Bucky could tell from where he was sitting that Steve was being incredibly gentle with the insects, cupping his hands around them so as not to squish or stress them too much. Beth and Ruth were off to the side, running after two larger fireflies. Steve stayed with Martha, pointing to various twinkles around her. One began flying higher and Steve gently picked Martha up, holding her so she could capture the firefly on her own. Her laugh of glee could be heard clearly across the yard and she held up her jar for Bucky to see. He smiled and waved.

“So, how was swimming?” Becca asked.

“Good. Clint and Nat seemed to really like Steve and I think he’ll finally have some more people he can call friends around here. He needs more than me anyway.” Becca hummed in response, looking back out at the yard. Beth and Ruth ran over, holding up their jars.

“Look!” Beth shouted. “We’re gonna put them on our night stand and they’ll be like our own little lamps!” Before Bucky could say anything, Steve and Martha came up behind them.

“While I’m sure that would be real pretty, it’s probably best to release them.” Beth and Ruth pouted. “I know they’re beautiful, and you want to hang onto them forever, but they belong outside.” He ruffled their hair, smiling as they batted at his hands. “But we’ll catch more tomorrow and I bet they’ll be even brighter.” Bucky’s heart clenched in his chest. Becca squeezed his shoulder and rallied the girls to take them to bed. Steve hung around, shuffling from foot to foot. “You, uh, you wanna look at the stars?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Lemme grab a blanket,” Bucky said, standing to leave.

“No, no,” Steve said, holding out a hand to stop him. “It’s more fun when you lay in the grass. Trust me.” Bucky shrugged, but he trusted Steve, so he followed him out to the edge of the yard. They lay next to each other, hands behind their heads, their ankles barely touching, and Bucky was content. He pointed up at the sky, tracing the constellations he knew with his finger.

“Do you know the constellation Pleiades?” Bucky heard the grass next to him rustle, and assumed Steve had turned to look at him.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s usually called The Seven Sisters,” Bucky explained, tracing the six visible stars of the constellation. “The story is that there were seven divine sisters who went along with Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, each time she went out to, well, hunt.” Steve chuckled quietly, but let Bucky continue. “Orion saw them one day and thought they were so beautiful that he pursued them for seven years. Finally, Zeus turned them into doves and then stars, making it so Orion could never have them.”

“Huh,” Steve said.

“Yeah. They represent hope and perseverance through hard times, showing that you will always move on to be brighter.”

“Beautiful,” Steve whispered. Bucky turned to look at him and found Steve staring at him intently. There was a spark of something in the air and Bucky found he couldn’t look away. The two stared into each other’s eyes, the stars glittering above them. Steve was looking at him so intensely, like Bucky was something good, someone good, and Bucky found he couldn’t breathe. He sat up, breaking eye contact, and breathed harshly.

“I should head to bed. Try and get up early tomorrow since I didn’t do much today.” Bucky was aware he was rambling a little, talking way too quickly, but his heart was beating so fast he could barely focus.

“Oh, uh, okay,” Steve said. Bucky heard him sit up, but didn’t look back as he stood up.

“See you tomorrow!” Bucky called as he rushed towards the house. He thought he heard Steve saying something, but he had to get inside. He needed to get away. It was all too much. Bucky sagged against his door when he made it to his room, sliding down until he was on the floor, hands pressed to his eyes and knees pulled tight to his chest. “Oh, fuck,” he moaned quietly. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hella aroace so I hope the barely there sex scene in this is alright.
> 
> Unbeta'd.  
> This chapter and the next are gonna be a smidge shorter most likely, but don't worry. We're coming up on the good stuff.

Bucky woke the next morning with a splitting headache. He groaned and turned over in his bed, pulling the blankets tightly around himself. Gazing at the wall, he zoned out, thinking of the night before. Steve had looked so radiant, so angelic, his skin sun kissed and his eyes clear. Bucky groaned again, burrowing farther into the blankets. There was a knock on his door and he didn’t bother to answer. Maybe they’d go away.

“Bucky?” It was Becca. He heard his door creak open, but didn’t turn over, wallowing in his own self pity. “Bucky, you ready to do eggs?” She padded over to his bed and he felt it dip with her weight.

“M’Not,” he mumbled into the blankets.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak blanket,” Becca deadpanned. Bucky wanted to laugh.

“I’m not. Ready.”

“Oh...kay?” Becca stood, coming around to the other side of the bed, and squatted in front of him. She narrowed her eyes, going over his face and body, wrapped up like a little burrito. “What’s going on? You were fine last night.”

“I’m just tired,” he lied. “Maybe I’m sick. Better leave so you don’t catch it.” Becca stood up and sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just go tell mom you’re sick then.” She turned to leave. As much as Bucky wanted to wallow, his mother wouldn’t leave him alone if she even thought he might be sick, and he didn’t want to be dotted on.

“I’m gettin’ up, I’m gettin’ up,” he said, forcing himself upright. “I’ll be out in a few.” When Becca didn’t respond, he looked up. She was staring at him.

“Seriously, are you okay?”

“Yes,” he grit out, suddenly angry. He was tired of people nosing into his life, especially his love life, when they could all just leave him well enough alone. “I’m fuckin’ peachy, okay? I’m having a case of the Mondays.”

“It’s Thursday,” Becca muttered in response. She didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t push him, and just shook her head as she left. Bucky slumped down, head in his hands, and let out a shaky breath. He shouldn’t have snapped at her, not when she was only worried, but being hit with the realization that he was falling for Steve the night before did a number on him. Bucky stood up, shaking his head to clear his mind, and got dressed for the day.

It was a sunny day, the breeze just perfect, and Bucky hated it. He wanted to wallow, god damn it, and it was hard when they day was screaming to be enjoyed. He kicked at stones as he walked, petulant, and scowled at the chickens. They pecked at him, and he may have been imagining it, but they seemed like gentler pecks than usual.

“I guess y’all can tell too, huh,” Bucky grumbled. A persistent chicken followed him as he gathered eggs, clucking quietly. When he finished with the eggs he decided he should take a look in the barn. He hadn’t cleaned it yesterday, so it would definitely need work today. The hen followed him and he stopped, looking down at her with a frown. “Go back to the coop.” She stared up at him, her beady black eyes indignant as she squawked at him. “Don’t give me lip. It’s not even gonna be any fun in the barn.”

“Talking to the chickens?” Bucky jumped, letting out a less than dignified yelp, and whirled around to face Steve. Steve smiled at him, though his eyes were wary, and gestured to the hen. “Gertrude there is one of the chattiest in my opinion, but she usually listens well too.” Bucky stared at him, tense and quiet. Steve’s darted to the side and his smile faltered. “Minnie is the best listener though. She just munches on grass.”

“Yeah, Minnie is great, look,” Bucky started backing up, his smile stiff and fake even to him, “I’d love to chat more but I gotta clean the barn and coop and then help Becca so I’d best be getting on my way.” Steve looked dejected and worried. He climbed over the chicken fence and began to approach.

“D’You want any help?”

“Nope! I’ll be good. I’m sure you have other things to do. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Bucky answered, way more tersely than he meant. Steve stopped and looked away before nodding. Bucky quickly turned and left, not wanting to follow his urge to apologize and kiss Steve senseless.

Becca found him hiding in the cow pasture.

“Want to tell me what’s going on yet?” She had her hands on her hips and was doing an absolutely wonderful impression of their mother. Bucky sighed and continued scratching Minnie’s forehead.

“Becks, come on--”

“If you keep avoiding it, I’ll just keep asking.”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky said, giving in. He plopped down, picking at the grass, and waited until she was next to him to speak. “I have a huge problem.”

“Yes, I could tell,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I think I’m falling for Steve.” He ripped up some grass a bit harsher than he intended. Becca looked shocked, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“What?”

“I think, well, I know I’m falling for Steve and it is a problem!” Bucky took a few calming breaths before continuing. “He’s just so good, Becks,” he whined. “He’s good with you and Ruth and Beth. Martha loves him and he treats her so kindly and he’s always helping and looking out for people. Did I tell you he threatened to fight Rumlow for you? Well, not with so many words but you should have seen his face, I mean, fuck, Becks. He’s beauty and honor incarnate and--” Bucky found a lump forming in his throat and found himself getting tired of feeling so much all the time. “I’m screwed.”

“Wow,” Becca said, speechless for the first time in her life. “Bucky, I had no idea, I mean,” she held her hand up to her mouth, thinking, “Wow that’s…”

“I know,” Bucky sighed.

“Do you think he likes you back?”

“Becca!”

“Well, I mean---”

“Please.” His voice cracked and he shut his eyes against the embarrassment. “Please,” he whispered, “I can’t even pretend that that—“ he cut himself off, biting his knuckles and taking a deep breath. “It’s not a possibility and it can’t be. Rumlow already knows and Steve needs this job and I can’t jeopardize that.”

“But if that wasn’t the case—“

“It is the case! Of course I’d love it to be different, but with the way things are, Steve is much better off without me.”

“But what about you?” Bucky paused. Becca furrowed her brow. “You keep talking about Steve is better off without you, which is a lie, by the way, but what about you? You can’t keep putting everyone else above you.” Bucky looked away, huffing slightly. Becca wrapped her arms around him, leaning on his shoulder. Bucky didn’t have an answer for her. He never thought about himself because what he wanted didn’t matter. At least, not in love. All he wanted was a quiet life. But it would never happen, so why bother thinking about it? Better to focus on his sisters and friends.

“If I think about it too much, it breaks my heart,” he said softly. Becca squeezed him tighter and he rested his head on hers, glad she couldn’t see his tears.

——-

Bucky spent the next week avoiding Steve as much as he could. He couldn’t run from dinner or certain chores, but he stopped chatting excessively and made sure his work got done quickly. Steve definitely had noticed. For the first few days Steve had tried to get Bucky to talk to him, but after Bucky side stepped conversation for the fifteenth time, he seemed to give up. He didn’t confront Bucky, didn’t ask him questions, just watched him silently, obviously concerned and confused. And Bucky could not take it anymore.

So he ran. Just like he usually did. He ran to Clint and Natasha. He ran to Daisy’s. He ran back to getting shit faced and getting off with random men in bathrooms. And it was going well, he was avoiding himself, but Bucky knew he couldn’t outrun himself forever.

“I’m going to make a bathroom run, wanna join me?” Bucky was plastered and dragging a finger down some man’s chest. He hadn’t gotten a great look at the guy, only his blonde hair and blue eyes, but Bucky wasn’t really concerned with that. He just wanted to forget he was himself. That he loved Steve in a way that could never last in reality. Pushing those thoughts aside, he dragged the man into the bathroom with him, barely waiting for the stall to close before he was sucking on the guy’s neck. He let out a moan and Bucky smirked against his skin, licking up to his ear and then kissing down his jaw until their lips met. They kissed roughly, lips smacking and teeth clacking, both desperate. Bucky slid down to his knees and quickly unbuttoned the man’s pants, shoving them to mid thigh before taking the man’s cock in his mouth.

Bucky knew he had a sinful mouth. He knew it was what most men loved about him. So he used it. He licked and sucked and mouthed, preening at the sounds coming from above him. He pulled off with a pop, undoing his own fly as he stood. They kissed more, less hungry this time, but with the same amount of vigor. The man, and Bucky really wished he had gotten his name, flipped him around until he was pressed against the stall door and yanked his pants down. Bucky looked back over his shoulder, wishing his vision was clearer, and smirked in what he assumed was the correct general direction. The man grinned back, he thought, and pulled out a condom.

They fucked fast and dirty. There was no love in the movements, just plain desire, and Bucky found himself yearning for more. Yearning for Steve and his calloused but gentle hands. Bucky wondered if Steve’s lips were as soft as they looked. If his own hands would fit against Steve’s hips. Thinking about Steve only made him harder and Bucky clenched his fists, ashamed but unable to stop himself. The man was thrusting more aggressively, his thrusts becoming sporadic, and Bucky began pushing back to meet him. The man groaned and tightened his hands on Bucky’s hips. He slammed against Bucky, leaning forward and resting his weight against Bucky’s back, as he made his release. Bucky quickly stroked himself to completion, Steve’s name falling from his lips.

The man behind him stiffened and pulled back. Bucky stood upright, listening to the rustling of clothes and zippers instead of the pounding in his head. He stumbled out of the stall and the man followed behind him. They parted ways outside the bathroom and Bucky stumbled to the booth where Clint and Natasha were waiting, slumping against the cool vinyl. The pair watched him silently, but Bucky knew they were unimpressed. Usually they weren’t really judgy about it, but they knew what he was doing. That he was running away from his feelings. And if Carol’s look as she dropped off a water for him was anything to go by, so did she.

“Bucky,” Natasha said, “We need to talk to you.” Her voice gave no room for discussion. Bucky groaned and rested his head on the table.

“Can we maybe do it when m’not drunk?” He whined. Nat opened her mouth but Clint jumped in.

“Yeah, Bucky. But we gotta, okay? No running out.” Clint’s tone was gentler than Natasha’s had been. Bucky nodded against the table and made no moves to sit up. The table was actually pretty comfortable. He could probably fall asleep right here…

“Did he just fall asleep on the table?”

“Yes. Clint, go grab Carol. We’ll need her help getting him out to the car.”

\-----

Bucky woke up with a mouth that tasted like ass and a headache that felt like someone had taken a bat to his head. He was face down on what smelled like Clint’s couch and he slowly pushed himself up, squinting to keep the light out of his eyes. Bucky stretched, wincing when it made his head throb, and shifted into a sitting position. He was nowhere near ready to actually stand up. The smell of coffee was in the air, which meant Natasha was trying to wake Clint up. Bucky sighed. He hoped she would take pity on him and not have the conversation he knew they needed to have.

“I hope you feel like shit,” Natasha said from behind him. He jumped, winced at how it made his head hurt, and slowly turned to face her. She had two cups of coffee and stared at him so intensely he had to look away. So much for taking pity.

“I do,” he replied. He closed his eyes again and groaned. “Fuck, I really, really do.”

“You need to pace yourself, James.” She set a coffee down in front of him and then sat on the arm chair across from the couch. “Both in drinking and fucking to get your mind off Steve.”

“You never beat around the bush,” Bucky grumbled. She ignored him.

“You’ll never feel better about yourself until you treat yourself right,” Natasha snapped. “Do you know how it feels to see someone you care about try to drink themself away? To watch them hurt themself more every time they go out?” She leaned forward in her chair, serious. “You cannot drink enough to change yourself, Bucky. You cannot fuck enough men to stop caring about Steve.” Bucky leaned back, uncomfortable with the truth. “I know you hate yourself, though I don’t understand why.”

“Because--”

“You being gay does not make you worthless; your father demeaning you until you believed it does not make you worthless. When I see you, I see a man who loves his sisters, his mother, and who does his best to take fun just as seriously as work.” She looked away from him, leaning back. “You’ve had a lot of years of convincing yourself why you’re a horrible person, but you’re not. You’re just a person. You can be a brat, you sometimes drink too much, you can be selfish, but so can everyone else.”

“Nat, I--”

“Forgive yourself the way you forgive others.” She sipped her coffee. “Also, stop avoiding Steve. Not only does it make you unhappy and indirectly hurt yourself, but it’s unfair to him. You don’t have to do anything or say anything about how you feel, that is up to you, but he doesn’t deserve to be dropped from your life. Especially when it seems like you’re one of the few people in his.” Bucky sat back, overwhelmed. He gulped at his coffee, relishing in the bitter heat, and stared at the coffee table.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he said, quietly. “I fucked up, huh.”

“Yeah, you did. But that’s okay as long as you fix it.” Natasha and Bucky stared at each other. They sat like that until there was a crash from the kitchen.

“Nat,” Clint called, “I broke the coffee pot again.” Natasha rolled her eyes and stood up.

“Start using a mug and maybe you’ll stop dropping the pots.” She went into the kitchen, giving Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze as she went by. Bucky just sank back into the couch, closed his eyes, and wished he wasn’t so hung over.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so hard for me to finish. I knew where I wanted to go, but not how to make sense getting there. So I didn't really go back and edit much cuz I was obsessing and tbh, we're all just here to see these boys kiss, am I right
> 
> Unbeta'd. I don't know shit about farming. There's another f-slur in here, Brock says it.
> 
> Also, we finally get some good good Stucky action. We've made it, folks.
> 
> Also, also, thank you to all who have commented!! I’m a leo and literally one comment makes me go “MY PUBLIC NEEDS ME” so like,, 💖💖💖💖💖

Bucky didn’t get home from Clint and Nat’s until the late afternoon. He had rested there until his headache was manageable enough for him to drive home, and since he drank nearly his own weight in vodka, it took quite a long time. Bucky’s head still throbbed, but his stomach had calmed down and the headache was slowly ebbing away. When he got out of his car, his mother was waiting for him on the porch.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” She called. “Where on earth have you been?!” Bucky slunk up the steps.

“Clint and Natasha’s. Drank a little too much last night and couldn’t drive until I was sure I wouldn’t throw up in my car.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling sheepish when faced with his angry mother. She sighed and shooed him inside, sitting him down at the kitchen table as she got out eggs, toast, and butter.

“Well,” she began, “I’m glad you waited, but call next time. You know I worry about you.” Her voice trembled slightly and Bucky felt guilty for upsetting her.

“Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. She turned and looked at him, slightly confused. “Mom, I…” He swallowed and tried again. “Mom, I’m sorry I’ve been going out so much. I know it scares you, but I’m stopping. I’m not… I’m not gonna drink like that anymore.” He’d been so close to telling her, but he knew she’d only worry more if he had. Winnie was concerned enough about his drinking, much less his sexual escapades with varying safety. His mother turned back to the stove, not saying anything. Bucky waited, wondering if she didn’t believe him, and then opened his mouth to continue. Winnie then turned, plate of eggs and toast in hand, with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.

“Sorry, I just,” she inhaled sharply, letting it out with a shaky laugh, “I’m very happy to hear that. I needed a moment so I wouldn’t cry.” Bucky stood up, shoving the chair back, and wrapped his arms around his mother, holding on tightly. She clung to him, face buried in his shoulder.

“Oh, mom,” Bucky said. She let out a watery laugh and pulled back, just enough to look Bucky in the eye.

“You don’t know how worried I was. You were so angry at the beginning of summer, but you seemed so much happier until these last few weeks and I was so scared something had happened between you and your father I didn’t know of.”

“Honestly, I haven’t done much talking to dad. After I kinda went off at him,” his mother leveled him with a sarcastic look and Bucky couldn’t help but smile, “Okay, really went off on him.” His mother smiled at him, hugging him tightly once more before letting him go. Bucky sat and ate his eggs and toast, feeling better than he had all day. “It’s not nothing but, well, I can’t really talk about it. Not right now.” He looked at her apologetically. “I want to, but I can’t. Okay?” Winnie looked slightly hurt, but Bucky knew that would just be hard to avoid, seeing as his mother hated to not know what was causing pain to her children. She nodded, though, and Bucky knew she’d be okay.

\-----

After talking with his mom, Bucky showered and, though he wouldn’t admit it, got into his best casual outfit. He was trying to decide if two open buttons was too much, when there was a knock on his door. Bucky paused before opening the door to Martha, staring up at him with as angry a look as she could muster.

“Martha?” Bucky said. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said decisively. She marched past him and into his room, tiny hands on her hips, and stood facing him when he turned around. Saying that Bucky was shocked was an understatement.

“Me?”

“Yes!” She said impatiently. “You used to talk to Steve and now that you don’t he is very sad!” Bucky was torn between thinking his sister was the cutest thing in the world, and also feeling incredibly guilty for upsetting Steve.

“I know, I really messed up,” he said. Martha paused, a little thrown, but she shook her head, curls bouncing, and huffed.

“Well, you really need to apologize! Steve is really nice! And he’s stopped drawing flowers for me! He said it’s harder to draw and if you hurt him so bad that he lost his ability to draw, you’ll have to answer to me!” Martha’s cheeks were slightly red, and as much as Bucky wanted to laugh, because honestly this was the cutest thing he’d ever seen, he knew she was truly upset and that laughing would only make it worse.

“You’re right, Martha. We really can’t have Steve being so sad he stops doing something he loves.” Bucky bent down, taking one of Martha’s hands in his. “I’m going to apologize this evening, alright? I don’t wanna bother him while he works, but first thing after, I’ll apologize.” Martha nodded, content, and then hugged Bucky.

“Thank you,” she said, giving a small curtsey, and Bucky smiled, giving her head a small pat as she left. As cute as it was, Bucky wasn’t happy hearing that Steve had stopped drawing because of him. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about much else except his fear of how he felt. Of course Steve was upset. When Bucky really, really thought about it, Steve didn’t do much with anyone except for him. Which, while Bucky loved the idea of that, it meant him dropping Steve had left the man alone and with no one to talk to. Not unless he had reached out to Natasha or Clint without Bucky knowing. Bucky shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and sighed. Seeing as it was nearing dinner time, Bucky wanted to find Steve as soon as he could.

Bucky first checked the caravan, knocking on the steel door. He waited a few minutes before knocking again, though there was no answer. He went around to one of the windows, peeking in. The lights were off and there was no movement. Bucky cursed. Of course Steve would change up his routine the day Bucky needed to talk to him. He moved on, checking in with Beth and Ruth in the yard and Becca in the barn. Steve was nowhere to be found. While Bucky was confused, he supposed he couldn’t blame Steve. Bucky had started the whole avoiding thing himself, so he couldn’t complain if Steve was doing the same. In fact, he probably deserved worse. And the world decided he deserved worse as well. When Bucky left the barn, he ran into Rumlow, literally.

“Watch where you’re going, faggot,” Rumlow muttered. Bucky grit his teeth, but ignored him, stomping past. Rumlow, apparently, was in need of a fight because he followed Bucky. “What, no response? I didn’t offend your feminine delicacy?”

“What does that even fucking mean?” Bucky asked. “I’d respond if your insults were worth my time.” He kept walking.

“Oh yeah? Well maybe I’ll see if your sister has time for me,” Rumlow sneered. Bucky clenched his fists, but held his ground.

“Fucking stop, Brock,” Bucky grit out. “She’s not into you and she never will be.”

“We’ll see. Maybe I’ll bring out the slut in her yet. I mean, you are her brother after all, and maybe it runs in the--” Bucky cut Brock off with a punch to the face. Brock went down, the shock and force of the punch giving Bucky the upper hand for the moment. He lunged at Brock, who was starting to get up, and pressed him to the ground, punching blindly. Bucky was seeing red. Why he ever listened to Brock, he didn’t know. The man was a slime and Bucky always let him work him up. Brock flipped them, shoving Bucky’s head against the ground and making his ears ring. Bucky blinked away the stars, his vision clearing in time to see Brock’s fist coming at his nose. He closed his eyes, waiting for the contact, but none came. Suddenly, Brock’s weight was pulled off him and Bucky opened one eye. Becca was there, arms crossed, and Steve was holding Brock back.

“What the fuck, you two?” Becca yelled. “Y’all are lucky George didn’t see you two fighting like five year olds!”

“Fuck you!” Brock spat, spitting out some blood on the ground before stalking off. Becca helped Bucky up, tenderly touching at his blackening eye.

“What the hell was that all about?” She snapped.

“He’s just being a fuckwad,” Bucky said, ignoring her ever so slightly. Steve was looking away, obviously uncomfortable, and he began to leave. Bucky gently pushed Becca away. “Steve, wait!” Steve stopped and turned, looking shocked and nervous. Bucky went over, waving Becca off, and stopped a few feet from Steve, suddenly nervous. “Uh,” he stuttered, “I wanted to talk with you real quick.” Steve nodded, but said nothing and didn’t move. “Wanna go to the uh, cow field?” And really, Bucky thought, where had all his gumption gone.

“Sure,” Steve said quietly. He remained quiet as they walked, head down. Bucky suddenly felt very, very nervous. He wondered if he had messed up more than he thought. They got to the pasture, Minnie making her way over to the both of them. Bucky held out a hand to nuzzle, but she bypassed him and went straight to Steve, who smiled gently and scratched her forehead. Bucky watched for a moment, impressed and dazzled by Steve’s ability to make friends with every species once again.

“So,” Bucky began.

“Look,” Steve said, cutting him off, “I’m really sorry.” Bucky paused, confused. “I don’t really know what I did, but obviously I upset you or offended you, and I’m really sorry. I’ll keep my distance. I didn’t mean to horn in on your family and friendships, seriously, I just,” Steve clenched and unclenched his fists, still not looking at Bucky, “I just felt so at home I lost track of the fact that this isn’t my home. This isn’t where I belong, and I’m sorry I--”

“This is your home,” Bucky said, cutting Steve off. Steve stepped back, head snapping up to look at Bucky. “This is where you belong, and I mean that.” Bucky stepped forward, into Steve’s space, and fought back the underlying nerves in his belly. “You didn’t do anything, Steve. It was all me. I had…” Bucky paused, biting his lip. “I had a realization that kind of, well, knocked me sideways, and I freaked out. I kinda took it out on you by avoiding you. And I’m really, really fucking sorry.” Bucky looked right into Steve’s wide, shocked eyes, trying to convey how sincere he was. “You didn’t deserve it. And I handled everything so wrong. I just. You.” Bucky stopped, letting the hand he had reached out for Steve with at some point, drop to his side. He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what else he wanted to stay. “You’re so good, Steve, and I can’t… It makes me…You deserve the world, and I just….” He trailed off, unable to continue his thoughts without coming out and just saying it. It being how much he really, really cared for Steve.

“Bucky?” Steve whispered. Bucky looked up and Steve was suddenly there, in his space. Steve had a serious look on his face, eyes darting around Bucky’s face like he was looking for something. “You had a realization about what?” Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and he swallowed, eyes darting to Steve’s lips almost unconsciously. And Steve definitely noticed. Bucky heard his breath hitch and his eyes wandered back up to Steve’s. His pupils were blown, his cheeks red, and Bucky could feel the air start to charge around them.

“Steve, I, uhm, I,” Bucky whispered, feeling like anything louder would break the moment. Steve smiled shyly, moving forward slowly.

“It’s okay,” he replied softly. Bucky’s breath hitched again, his heart beating faster and faster, and he leaned forward slightly…

“Bucky! Steve!” The two of them jumped apart when Winnie’s call rang from the house. They looked to the house, then at each other. Steve was flushed and Bucky could feel a matching heat on his face. They locked eyes and something changed between them. The moment they had had was gone, but there was a shift. Bucky smirked at Steve.

“Race you,” he said. Steve grinned back.

“Sure thing,” Steve replied. And he took off. Bucky blinked, momentarily caught off guard, and then he was right at Steve’s hills, laughing.

“Cheater!” Bucky called after Steve. Steve’s laughter echoed behind him.

\-----

Dinner was tense. When Bucky and Steve had come in, laughing with each other, their mirth had quickly dried up. Rumlow was at the table, glaring daggers at Bucky. Bucky straightened up and glared right back. George looked between the two of them and frowned. He sized up Rumlow’s bruised cheek, as well as the dried blood left around his nostrils, and then eyed Bucky’s black eye.

“You two,” he said, gruffly, “What happened.” It wasn’t a question. Bucky spoke before Brock had the chance.

“Little misunderstanding,” he said, eyes narrowed. “But we worked it out, isn’t that right?” Brock looked ready to protest, but Bucky raised one eyebrow and he snapped his mouth shut. George looked between them, Brock’s body language obviously stating it had not been worked out, but didn’t seem to care enough to push it.

“Just don’t fight by the live stock. Gets them worked up.” With that settled, everyone sat. Steve sat next to Bucky, which got a smile and thumbs up from Martha, and a quirked brow and smirk from Becca. Bucky shrugged, too nervous near Brock to do much more.

The tension stayed high throughout dinner. So much so, that George sent Brock to the guest room and told him to take the next day for himself. Bucky clenched his teeth. Rumlow did not deserve it, but at least it would keep him out of Bucky’s hair. Rumlow always went into the city to drink on his days off, hanging out with whatever assholes he drew in, and Bucky was very, very grateful for it. However, since Rumlow was off, that meant Steve was going to be busy for the rest of the night, as well as most of the next day. Which left Bucky with butterflies in his guts and a nervous excitement he couldn’t shake.

Steve seemed just as pleased about the extra work as Bucky, following George out that night with a longing look back at the house. Bucky was nearly vibrating in his shoes and he pulled Becca up to his room the moment he could.

“Hey!” She said, acting put upon. When Bucky had closed his door, he turned to Becca. She smirked at him. “Let me guess, you and Steve made up?”

“I think he almost kissed me.” Becca looked shocked, but impressed.

“Really? You’re sure?”

“I mean,” Bucky said, suddenly unsure, “I mean I guess it could have been him trying to keep things private, and I was whispering….”

“Bucky,” Becca said flatly, “Don’t talk yourself out of this.” She sighed, resting her chin in her hands. “You don’t see it, do you?” Bucky cocked his head. “The way Steve looks at you.”

“Becca.” Bucky said, drawing out the last syllable and blushing. She grinned and tickled at his sides, laughing as he squirmed out of her reach.

“I know you’re scared of it, but he really does look at you. A lot. Ask to see one of his sketchbooks sometime.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Bucky, how have you survived while being this dense?”

“It’s my unwavering charm.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what Steve’s into, too. That or just straight up idiots.”

“Becca, I’m your older brother. You have to be nice to me.”

“You once put cow pats in all my shoes; I owe you nothing.”

\-----

By the next morning, Bucky had somehow not talked himself out of believing Steve was going to kiss him in the pasture. He’d tried, but there wasn’t really a second way to spin the story. It wasn’t going to stop him from freaking out, nothing would, but he found himself unable to stop thinking about it. About the possibility of Steve liking him. The possibility of things going right. It wasn’t like Bucky had suddenly decided everything was okay in his life, far from it, but Natasha had sparked something in him. She was right. He let his life be dictated and never tried to break away from the restraints the world and his father put on him. Not really. Not the way he should. And it was high time, he thought, that he let himself enjoy something good, regardless of what anyone thought.

Bucky spent his morning hyping himself up in the mirror. Steve would be busy for most of the day, thanks to Bucky’s temper, and it was driving him crazy. The longer he had to linger on the near kiss, the more jittery he became. He paced around his room for a good ten minutes before Winnie came up.

“Bucky, honey?” She called. “You know I love you dearly, but if you’re going to keep pacing you have got to go outside. You’re stomping and it’s starting to get on my nerves just a bit!” Bucky came downstairs, smiling sheepishly at his mother. The fact that she asked at all meant she had reached her limit ages ago. She waved him out the door, smiling lightly, which definitely meant no harm, no foul. Bucky paused at the bottom of the porch steps before making his way, as usual, to the cow pasture. He stopped by the coops on the way. Gertrude toddled over, clucking loudly at Bucky. She pecked at his shoe until he picked her up and scratched the top of her head.

“Hey girl,” he said, “How’s the feed today, huh?” She clucked quietly and started pecking at his fingers. “Ow, ow! Fine! You jerk!” Bucky set her down and she toddled back off. He watched her go before continuing on his way. Minnie was lounging in the grass and Bucky paced in front of her. She watched him, huffing on occasion and munching at the grass around her. “Do you ever worry about this stuff, Minnie?” Bucky sat down, leaning against her side. She nuzzled at him before continuing her munching. “Got your eye on any of the other cows? Wondering if they really like you or you’re imagining other things?” She kept munching. “I bet not. I bet all the cows like you. I bet you’re fighting them off left and right, huh?” Minnie side eyed Bucky in a way that was too human and he looked away. “God, this day is dragging!” He groaned and let his head thud against her, looking up at the sky. Then he shot up straight, grinning. “I know what to do,” he whispered. He gave Minnie a parting pat and raced back to the house. When he went in, he found his mother in her sewing room, working on some of his old pants for Becca.

“Bucky, you done pacing?” Her voice was kind, so Bucky knew she meant no harm.

“I think so. I know dad has Steve working on one of the outlying fences, and it’ll be hell coming back for lunch, so I thought I could bring him something. Since I have a lot of pent up energy today.” Winnie smiled brightly.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Bucky! I’ll fix up some sandwiches!” She finished pinning a hem and Bucky couldn’t wait, so he went to the kitchen to find the basket they used when they went out as a family. George always came home for lunch, always, so Bucky knew this was probably his best moment to talk to Steve without anyone to bother them. Which, if everything went according to his plan, would be the best. Bucky rummaged through the fridge and grabbed some apples for them to eat as well. Winnie had finished the hem by then, and was working on some ham sandwiches.

“Pack four, Ma,” Bucky said, grabbing a large canteen to fill with water. “Steve eats like it’s going out of style.”

“Don’t I know it,” Winnie laughed. She wrapped up the sandwiches and put them in the basket just as Bucky returned from getting water. “Now, don’t bother him too long, alright?”

“Who, me?” Bucky asked, feigning innocence. His mother gently smacked his shoulder, smiling.

“You get on outta here, troublemaker.” Bucky placed a kiss on her forehead and then made his way to the outside fence.

Steve was hard at work, digging to make room for a new post, and Bucky stopped a little ways back, watching him work. After what was most likely too much staring, Bucky made his way to Steve.

“Rogers!” He called. Steve’s head whipped around and he smiled as Bucky came over. “Ready for lunch? Thought I’d save you some travel time to and from the house.” Steve set down his tools, untucking and pulling up his shirt to wipe some of the dirt and sweat off his face. Bucky took the time to appreciate his abdomen. He quickly looked back at Steve’s face before he could notice.

“That’s great, Buck. Thank you,” Steve replied. Bucky set the basket down, pulling out two sandwiches and apple. He began munching and gestured at the spot next to him. “Come on, take a break. My dad always goes home for lunch, so he won’t notice if you take a breather.” Steve chuckled and sat next to Bucky, on the opposite side of the basket, and grabbed his food.

After they both had eaten, Bucky lay in the grass, soaking up the sun like a cat. Steve sat next to him, head tilted back, eyes closed. It was a beautifully clear day, any clouds in the sky light, fluffy, and picturesque. There was a gentle breeze which ruffled Steve’s bangs. Bucky watched them for a moment, smiling fondly at Steve, before looking back up at the sky. He tapped Steve’s knee and pointed at the sky when he had his attention.

“Is it just me, or do those clouds look like Rumlow being trampled by some cows?” Steve snorted, then laughed fully when he couldn’t hold it in. Bucky smiled up at him, mesmerized by his soft, glowing skin, and full lips. He looked down and away, scolding himself lightly. Steve shifted, leaning back on his elbows, and joined Bucky in watching the clouds. After a while, Steve shifted again, leaning slightly towards Bucky.

“When we went to town the first time, to get Martha’s present, you mentioned you had a fondness for Shakespeare. I was wondering what your favorite quote was. If you had to pick.” He looked at Bucky, face open and relaxed. Bucky had many, many quotes he loved. It was near difficult for him to choose between them, each special and dear for its own reason. But in this moment, with Steve smiling at him, the breeze cooling the sweat on his skin and the way Steve was looking at him -- there was only one he could possibly say.

“What a piece of work is man,” he began, looking away from Steve because he wasn’t sure he could bear it, “How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty,” he recited. Bucky would have been lying if he said he hadn’t memorized Hamlet’s lines and recited them to himself in his room. He was a teen himself when he read it, and connected with Hamlet’s existential frustrations. Hell, he still did. He looked at Steve out of the corner of his eye and noticed he had gone still. “In form and moving how express and admirable.” Steve inhaled sharply and Bucky’s eyes snapped to his. Bucky felt his heart beat faster, unable to look away from Steve. Steve’s cheeks were tinted red and his mouth had gone slack into a tiny ‘o’. His pupils were slightly blown and he stared at Bucky with such rapt attention it almost made him nervous. Bucky licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. “In action, how like an angel,” Bucky murmured, taking in all of Steve that he could. His eyes, brilliantly blue; his nose, slightly bent from where it must have been broken; his full lips, parted in the most tempting of ways; the way he was leaning toward Bucky, like he couldn’t help himself. Bucky could feel himself being drawn in and couldn’t find it in himself to pull away. “In apprehension, how like a God.” Bucky’s voice got softer as he and Steve leaned closer, the air between them charged and electric. “The beauty of the world,” Bucky whispered, eyes flitting over Steve’s face before locking on his eyes again.

Steve moved forward, cupping Bucky’s face and pressing hips lips to Bucky’s insistently, breathing heavily through his nose. Bucky gripped Steve’s collar and pulled him closer, nipping at his bottom lip. Steve gasped quietly and Bucky shivered. He pulled Steve until the other man was on top of him, which was made slightly difficult by the basket, and it was quickly shoved out of the way. Bucky cupped his face with both of his hands, unable to let go for fear Steve would move away. He needn’t have worried, because Steve pressed against him, kissing Bucky like the world would end if he didn’t. Steve pulled back after a moment, breathing quickly, and he looked down at Bucky in such a tender way, he couldn’t help but blush.

“That’s my absolute favorite quote, too,” Steve whispered. Bucky grinned and pulled him back, kissing him again. When they parted, Steve didn’t move, content to lay on top of Bucky, who was just as content having him there. “I thought…”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, slightly breathless.

“I thought you might, but I didn’t want to assume,” he whispered.

“Since the moment I saw you,” Bucky said, just as quietly. Steve smiled wide and kissed him again and Bucky thought he would never be able to get tired of kissing Steve.

“I thought I was so screwed, you know? Falling for the boss’s son.”

“I mean, we’re definitely gonna run into some shit. My dad’s a dick and Rumlow knows that I’m, you know--”

“Gay?” Steve asked. Bucky was slightly taken aback by his frankness, but smiled anyway.

“Yeah. And Rumlow definitely will be looking for reasons to get rid of both of us, but I’m tired of not letting myself be happy. And you,” he blushed, “You make me really happy.” Steve turned bright red, looking so hopeful and so excited, that Bucky just had to kiss him again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eheheheheh
> 
> Sorry I stopped updating for like 2 months. I get horrid dry spells where creating things is like pulling teeth. I got to the kiss and then I was literally surprised pikachu. Where do I go. I had ideas but no idea how I was getting there.
> 
> But I figured that out! Got my ass going and hopefully I'll be able to update in the next month instead of two! (Hopefully sooner, but like, my muse is a fickle bitch)
> 
> Anyway  
> Unbeta'd  
> I know nothing about farming  
> I know very little about cars  
> I just like gay Stucky fluff  
> (I'm not sure about my proficiency with sex scenes so I just kinda skipped ittttt, at least this time)
> 
> Love y'all, thanks for sticking with it!

Bucky and Steve lay together until Steve had to get back to work. He parted with a lingering kiss, smiling against Bucky’s lips and making his breath catch. Steve winked as he walked away and Bucky laughed, feeling so light and carefree he barely remembered touching the ground on his way back to the house. He couldn’t keep from smiling and his mother raised her brows when she saw him.

“Now, what has you all cheery? I haven’t seen you smile like that in so long!” She hugged him quickly, grabbing the basket from his hand.

“Oh, Steve tripped over the fence and face planted. Honestly hilarious,” Bucky said, the lie falling easily from his lips. She put her hands on her hips and turned to him.

“James Barnes! Laughing at other people's pain is not funny!”

“He was fine!” Bucky protested. “He just made a really funny noise on the way down!” Winnie pursed her lips, but seemed to accept this explanation.

“Well, alright then.” She then shooed him out of the kitchen. Bucky sauntered onto the back porch, leaning against the railing to watch his sisters run and argue. Beth and Ruth were play fighting, sticks in hand, pots on their heads as helmets. Bucky snickered. Their mother forced them to wear the pots due to the fact that the two girls were ruthless when it came to fighting. Martha was sitting under one of the trees, sketching it seemed. Bucky walked over and sat next to her. She didn’t look up.

“Martha,” Bucky said. She jumped slightly and turned to him.

“Bucky! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come over!” She put her sketchbook down, leaning against his side. “So you and Steve made up?”

“Yeah,” he replied, gently running his fingers through her hair. “We’re better than ever.”

“Good.” She nodded her head matter of factly and Bucky’s heart warmed. “Oh!” She exclaimed and turned to grab her sketchbook, which, on closer inspection, was one of Steve’s.

“Did you take one of Steve’s sketchbooks? Martha, you can’t take other people’s things we’ve talked about this,” Bucky groaned. Martha puffed out her cheeks and pouted.

“For your information, James,” she said, drawing out his name in annoyance, “Steve gave me his sketchbook ‘cause it’s full of flowers and he knows I like them!” She crossed her arms, turning away. “Now I won’t show you the picture I found of you in there!” Bucky froze and then scrambled to grab the sketchbook. Martha was doing entirely too good a job of fending him off.

“He drew me? C’Mon! Lemme see!” Bucky knew he sounded petulant, but damn, how many signs had he been missing? Martha eventually gave up and flipped to one of the pages at the back, holding it out for Bucky to see.

“He did a really good job capturing how handsome you are!” Her previous annoyance forgotten, Martha beamed over Steve’s skill. “Look at the lines! He made such good shadows and light…”

Bucky couldn’t focus on her speaking, breath caught in his throat at the picture Steve had drawn. It was from when they went to the beach, Bucky standing in the water next to Natasha. While she was still in the sketchy stage, his form had obviously been worked on delicately. It looked like he could have splashed the water on the page. He gently ran his fingers over the drawing, blushing slightly, and smiled to himself. So this is what Becca must have meant.

“Bucky!” Bucky’s head snapped up and he saw Martha waving her hand in front of his face. “You weren’t listening to me!”

“Sorry, sorry! Tell me again.”

 

That night, after dinner, Bucky helped his mother with dishes before making his way to Steve’s caravan. He knocked gently at the door, bouncing in nervous excitement on his feet. Steve opened the door a small amount, smiling and opening it all the way when he saw Bucky. He took a cursory glance behind Bucky and around the caravan before pulling Bucky inside and closing the door. Bucky pressed Steve against the door, smirking at the way Steve went red.

“You’re so cute when you blush, you know that?” Bucky whispered. The red on Steve’s cheeks darkened and spread down his neck, but he was smiling. Bucky let his hands rest on Steve’s hips and he leaned in more, kissing at Steve’s neck.

“H-Hey, Buck,” Steve stammered, weakly pushing at Bucky’s shoulders, “One moment, kay?” Bucky pulled back, pulling his hands to his sides like they were on fire. Steve grabbed on of his wrists and used his thumb to rub small circles. “No, no, I mean,” Steve looked down, unable to make eye contact. “I’m not really a one time sort of guy, I tend to really commit, and--” Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s mouth, smiling softly when he felt Steve kiss back. He pulled back only enough to look into Steve’s beautiful blue eyes.

“I don’t really intend on letting you go now that I’ve got you, Rogers,” he murmured. Steve’s breath hitched and he kissed Bucky again, hungrier this time, and pushed him towards his bed. Bucky swatted at the lamp on the side table, turning off the light so no one could see in. His knees hit the mattress and he sat heavily on the bed, pulling Steve down with him. The force of the movement clunked their foreheads together and the two hissed in pain before locking eyes and laughing. “Sorry, sorry,” Bucky said. “C’Mere.”

 

They lay together afterwards, Steve curling into Bucky, wrapped around him like an octopus. Bucky gently scratched the back of Steve’s head. He looked for the clock on the bedside table and groaned, gently pulling out of Steve’s grip. Or trying to, at least.

“Steve, hey,” Bucky murmured. Steve just pulled him tighter against him. Bucky huffed out a laugh and began tickling at Steve’s sides. He woke with a yelp and began squirming away. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

“Bucky, mmwhat?” Bucky took a moment to watch him, the moonlight making his hair shine, and he inhaled sharply, taken aback by Steve’s beauty yet again. He sat up, moving to get out of the bed.

“I gotta get inside, it’s nearly 2. We fell asleep.” He stood, pulling on his underwear and pants, before turning back to Steve. The man was leaning on his fist, watching Bucky with a sad, sleepy smile. Bucky paused in getting dressed to lean in and cup Steve’s cheek. He kissed him tenderly, nipping gently at Steve’s lip as he pulled away. Steve hummed and followed after Bucky when he pulled away. He watched Bucky finish getting dressed, eyes trailing down Bucky’s bare skin before he could cover it. When Bucky finished buttoning his shirt, he gave Steve one last quick peck, unable to get enough.

“Come back tomorrow night?” Steve whispered. Bucky smiled.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “Yeah.”

 

The next week was bliss. Bucky spent as much time as he could get away with with Steve. He helped him with chores, watched him draw, and invited him to watch him work on his car. Bucky’s car was his pride and joy. She was old, but sturdy, and full of modifications done by Bucky himself. Steve watched him work, lounging on the work table.

“So,” Steve said, “I know your sister is really interested in running the farm,” Bucky snorted, “Okay, very, very interested and set on,” Steve amended. “I’m just wondering what you want to do?” There was a slight pause before Steve stammered, “I-I mean, if you want to do anything at all.”

“I like working with my hands,” Bucky said, pausing so he could waggle his eyebrows at Steve, who rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. “I’ve always loved working with cars. I’m going to school now for engineering, but,” he sighed, scratching the back of his head, “But honestly I hate it. I’d much rather just be a mechanic.”

“You’d be a great mechanic, Buck,” Steve replied earnestly. Bucky ducked his head and smiled sadly.

“Yeah, but it’s not something my dad would ever let me do.” Bucky stood, closing the hood of the car and wiping his hands on a rag. “Which shouldn’t stop me, I know, but there’s this stupid part of me that just wants him to be proud of something I do.” Steve frowned and hopped off the table.

“I mean, I guess I get it, but why? He’s an asshole to you. What does his opinion matter?”

“That’s the million dollar question, huh,” Bucky grumbled. Steve took his hand and squeezed briefly. Then, he smiled and began pulling Bucky out of the garage.

“Come on, I’ve got something I want to show you in my caravan.” His voice was low and sent heat pooling into Bucky’s gut.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky replied, a little breathlessly, “Have I seen it before?” Steve shrugged. Bucky barked out a laugh and began running, pulling Steve along behind him. They took the path through the wooded area around left of the house, longer but more secluded, and Steve pulled Bucky up to him, leaning against a tree. He pulled Bucky in for a languid kiss, wet and warm, which left them both panting into each other’s mouths. Bucky smirked and kissed Steve again, pulling him closer by the hips, when he heard a branch snap. He pulled back, stumbling away from Steve, in time to see something barrelling off into the trees and shrubs. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what it was, and decide if he had really seen it at all.

“What the fuck?” Steve rasped out, standing next to Bucky.

“I thought I saw something going off that way,” Bucky muttered. Steve took a few steps forward, tension making his shoulders go taut. They stood there, listening, and when nothing else rustled or snapped, they continued toward Steve’s caravan, keeping their distance this time.

When they got to Steve’s caravan, they pulled the blinds and made out for a while, before settling down and cuddling on Steve’s small bed. Steve was wrapped around Bucky again, head on his chest, and Bucky was drawing lazy circles on Steve’s back with his fingers.

“Hey, Stevie?” Steve hummed in response. “You’re one of the gentlest, kindest, most hardworking people I know--”

“Aw, Buck…”

“So why did you get fired from your last job?” Bucky regretted the words almost immediately. Steve tensed up, taking in a sharp breath and pulling away from Bucky. “Fuck, sorry, we don’t have to talk about it,” Bucky babbled. “I shouldn’t have even opened my big mouth--”

“No, no, it’s,” Steve grit out, the words sounding like they had to be pulled out of him, “It’s okay. I just…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The last guy I worked for, Pierce was his name, Alexander Pierce, was, uhm, not a good guy. I worked for him for months and he eventually found out I was bisexual, I don’t really know how, but he took it really well.” Steve exhaled sharply through his nostrils and closed his eyes. “I was so excited, you know? Someone who knew but didn’t care.” Bucky frowned, reaching to take Steve’s hand. They intertwined their fingers and Steve gripped Bucky’s hand tightly. “Then, one day, he asks me into his study and propositions me.” Bucky gripped Steve’s hand tighter, tamping down on the anger that swelled within him. Steve smiled sadly. “Yeah. It was fucked up. I told him I’d report him and he asked ‘Who would believe you?’” He laughed bitterly. “He was right. ‘To whom should I complain?’ Who’d believe a farm hand over a member of council?” Bucky exhaled through his nose, counting to 10.

“Measure for Measure sucks,” Bucky uttered, trying to make Steve laugh. He didn’t, but his eyes crinkled and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

“Yeah, I agree. But that scene got it right.” He sighed. “I decided to leave and he decided to say he fired me. It wasn’t like I could correct anyone, no matter how much I wanted to, so I just left town. Came here hoping for something better.”

“Did you find it?” Bucky asked. Steve looked down at him, smiling.

“Yeah, I did.”

 

It was late afternoon when Bucky made his way back to the house, letting Steve nap. He whistled as he walked, wondering how he had gotten so lucky.

“Bucky!” He turned towards the voice and saw Becca running to him. She looked like there was a wolf at her heels and Bucky rushed to meet her.

“Becks? What’s wrong? Are you ok?” He looked her over, checking for injuries, but she shook her head.

“No, no, it’s not me,” she panted, “It’s Rumlow! He saw you and Steve and told dad and, fuck, Bucky, he’s furious,” she said, choking up. Bucky’s blood ran cold and he froze. Becca was still babbling, but it was a low hum behind the pounding in his ears.

It was funny. Bucky knew his father had his suspicions, but Bucky had never uttered a word about it, hiding. He had kept this secret since he was a 14 year old, crying in his room when he realized Betty didn’t appeal to him as much as Benny. His father had given veiled warnings, he had given one about Steve, but it had gone unspoken that this was something Bucky would grow out of. And now…

Now his father knew.

The initial shock began to wear off and Bucky shook Becca slightly, grabbing her attention.

“Go tell Steve. Tell him not to do anything stupid,” he said curtly. Becca nodded, heading off, but then she stopped and turned back.

“What about you?” Bucky smiled at her, strangely calm.

“I’m taking all the stupid with me.”

“Bucky, what are you talking about?”

“Just tell Steve to lay low, okay? And if dad asks him anything, it was all my idea. He needs this job; I won’t see him fired because of me.” Becca looked torn, but Bucky shooed her off, turning back toward the house. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and made his way home.

It was obscenely quiet as Bucky went up the porch steps. There were no hushed sounds, or even the squabbling of his sisters. Bucky went into the kitchen, which was deserted, and slowly made his way into the house. He turned when he heard a sharp cough. His father was sitting in his living room chair, Rumlow standing behind him smirking. Faced with his father, Bucky could feel the nerves building in his stomach. He pushed them down and clenched his fists, walking into the living room.

“I thought I warned you,” his father said, low and dangerous. “I warned you, and now I hear you’re--.” His father cut himself off, obviously not wanting to say the words. Bucky glanced at Rumlow, who looked so pleased with himself, Bucky could barely stand it. He took a deep, calming breath and then locked eyes with his father. He wondered where his mother and sisters were.

“I kissed Steve,” Bucky said, relishing in Rumlow’s obvious surprise that he had admitted to it. “I kissed Steve and he pushed me away. He’s not gay, like,” Bucky paused, bracing himself to say words to his father he never thought he would, “Like I am.” George banged his fist on the arm of the lounge chair, making Bucky flinch.

“No son of mine--” He began, and Bucky snapped.

“Then I ain’t your son.” Bucky’s words were sharp and his father looked taken aback. “I’m gay and I’m tired of running away from myself and the truth.” His father stood, crowding Bucky against the wall.

“Get out of my house.” His words were final, stacco with reigned in rage. Rumlow was doing a shit job of hiding his grin, but Bucky didn’t care. In the back of his mind, nervous questions swarmed and prodded at him: Who would look after his sisters? What would happen to Steve? What was he going to do? Was Becca going to be okay? He pushed them and his father aside, stalking towards the stairs.

“With pleasure.” In his room, Bucky shoved clothes and what money he had saved into his worn suitcase, stopping to put the small gifts and cards his sisters had made for him in as gently as he could. It was thrilling, almost. Bucky felt lighter than he had in a very, very long time. The cat was out of the bag and he was getting away. Getting away from the farm and his father and Rumlow. “Fuck,” Bucky muttered. There would be no way he could reach Steve and tell him anything before he left….

“Bucky?” He turned to face his mother, who was hovering in the doorway. Beth, Ruth, and Martha were behind her, eyes red rimmed and Bucky clenched his fists.

“Mom, I’m sorry, I--”

“Don’t you apologize,” she said fiercely. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry. Your father… I tried talking to him, but he just yelled and yelled and--”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, shocked that the words felt true. “I’m going to Clint’s, so you’ll know where to find me if you need me. This has been a long time coming.”

“Please don’t go Bucky!” Martha wailed. She ran to him, clamping her arms around his waist, and he hugged her tightly.

“I don’t have much of a choice, Martha,” he murmured. “I love you, okay?” He knelt down, wiping the tears from her eyes, and kissed her forehead. “I love you all so much,” he said, choking up slightly. He looked at his mother, then Ruth and Beth, smiling sadly. “Tell Becca I love her, yeah?” Winnie nodded. She looked like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t. Bucky closed his suitcase and hugged each of them as tightly as he could. Then, he left.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we gooooo, let's find that happy ending beech.
> 
> Unbeta'd  
> I seriously don't know enough about cars and I tried, I really did, but what I read just fucking confused me more, so we'll just sliiiiiiide over that and stretch our imaginations a bit  
> We're coming towards the end, not in the next chapter, nah, but in the next few, so I hope you're enjoying this story and I hope you enjoy where we go next
> 
> I appreciate y'all and your comments as well, much love

Bucky was laying on Clint’s couch, staring at the ceiling fan making lazy circles, as he had been for the last week. He wouldn’t have said his father had a lot of friends in town, but he apparently had had enough that finding a job was proving more and more difficult. After Bucky had left the farm, he hadn’t heard from his family. He had hoped someone might have written a letter, had really hoped it would be Steve, but it had been silent. Clint had welcomed him with open arms and a beer at least. Natasha had come home, taken one look, and asked what happened. Bucky told them, feeling happy despite himself when Clint had raged for half an hour, Natasha quiet but calculating as usual. She was planning something, he could tell, but who knew what it was.

Bucky toyed with some pencils that had been left on the table, twirling them between his fingers. He wondered if he should be the one to reach out, but there was no way for him to get the letter to anyone without his father knowing. He sighed, covering his face with his arm. Clint was out and Natasha had been gone for the past two days on ‘business,’ so Bucky was alone with his thoughts. It was a less than ideal situation. He figured Steve must still have his job, or he would have come looking. Maybe his father had the family on lock down. He wondered how much his sisters knew, and what they thought.

There was suddenly a knock on the door. Bucky sat up, wondering if he should even bother, since it was most likely someone for Clint or Natasha, when there was a soft voice from behind the door.

“Bucky? Are you in there?” Bucky rushed to the door and swung it open. Becca stood there, wringing her hands, and Bucky enveloped her in a hug.

“Becca, oh my god,: Bucky said, words coming out in a breathless rush. “Becca…”

“Oh Bucky,” she said into his shoulder, “I miss you so much.” They stood, holding each other, for a few moments, unwilling to let go. Bucky finally pulled away and led Becca inside.

“Coffee? Water?” Bucky offered. Becca shook her head no and made herself comfortable on the couch. Bucky sat next to her. “How did you even…?”

“Dad and Rumlow are staying out in the fields ‘cause someone has been sneaking in a hole in the fence and grabbing some of our crop, so I had time to spare to get here without them knowing,” she explained. “Besides, what matters is how you are. Are you ok?” She took his hand and Bucky smiled at her.

“I’m way happier than I should be, probably,” he said. “I’m not hiding anything anymore and, god, there’s nothing like it.” She smiled, surprised. “Dad has more connections than I thought, surprisingly, so finding a job has been rough but, damn, other than that I can’t complain.” Bucky paused, licking his lips. “And how is, uh--”

“Steve asked me to bring you this,” she said, handing him an envelope. Bucky grinned, opening it quickly. There was a picture, folded up nicely, and when Bucky opened his breath caught in his throat. It was a pencil drawing of him, leaning on the porch next to Martha. Bucky could feel his eyes watering, and he quickly wiped at them. He put the picture down, folding it up first, and then took out the letter. It read:

_Dear Bucky,_  
It’s been hell without you around. Rumlow is acting out of line and your father is letting him. Why, I have no idea. I think it’s more your father is too distracted by thieves to notice. He’s worked me to the bone, barely saying anything to me at all.  
It was damn dumb what you did, Buck. I can’t believe you would do that without telling me. There was another way out of this, I know it. 

Bucky scoffed. There wasn’t any other way it would have gone, but bless Steve and his faith in people.

_I miss you something fierce. Martha’s been so sad. She doesn’t draw anymore, just sits around looking out the window or hiding in her, Ruth, and Beth’s room. Beth and Ruth have been subdued too. It’s quiet and lifeless here without you._  
I miss you next to me. I miss the way your smelled out of the shower, when you had just a touch too much cologne. I miss your lips and your hands, and the weight of you next to me on the bed. As mad as I am at you for leaving, I’m twice as proud. I love you, Buck. I really do.  
We’re gonna figure this out, and we’re gonna do it together, you hear me? 

_Till the end,  
Steve Rogers_

Bucky smiled, staring at the letter until he heard a pointed cough. He looked over at Becca, flushed with embarrassment, but she was smiling warmly at him.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“I do,” Bucky sighed.

“I have time, so why don’t you write him a reply, and then we’ll talk.” Bucky hugged her tightly, kissing her cheek with a loud smack. “Ew, Bucky! Gross!” She squealed. He laughed, letting her go and going to the table to write.

 

Bucky spent most of the afternoon talking with Becca. Their father had apparently been hiding the fact they were being robbed for a few weeks. Bucky didn’t think it was a coincidence it started after he and Rumlow fought, and the fact it had been small stuff until the last week made him sure. And he told Becca as much.

“But there’s no way to prove it,” she argued. “Dad won’t hear a word against Rumlow, so what can I do? I can’t get a photo ‘cause they come at night, Rumlow isn’t dumb enough to do it himself ayway, and Dad is once again not letting me do work on the farm! He’s working Steve fucking ragged, and if not, he’s got him on call. Steve hasn’t really had a day off all week.”

“I knew it,” Bucky sighed. “And somehow that optimistic asshole thought there was a different way this could have gone.” Becca shot him a look. “What? I was done lying and you know dad would never, in his life, believe me over Rumlow for something like that. Someone was leaving and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna be Steve.” Their conversation was cut short by the sound of keys in the lock. Becca picked up her things, grabbing the letter Bucky had written for Steve, and kissed Bucky on the cheek as Clint came in.

“Bucky! You are not going to believe this!” He paused when he saw Becca. “Hey!”

“Hey,” Becca replied, moving by him to the door.

“You don’t need to leave on my account,” Clint said.

“I should be getting back anyway. Mom’ll need help with the girls. They’ve been a handful without you and Steve to entertain them.” She waved and closed the door behind her. Clint waited a moment, then turned to Bucky.

“Dude, seriously, you’ll never believe what I did today.”

“If it includes coffee and pizza, I assure you, I will,” Bucky deadpanned.

“I take you in out of the kindness of my own heart, I feed and clothe you,” Clint said.

“Clint, please.”

“I find a for sale auto shop in the next town over, ready and willing to sell, and this is how you treat me?” Clint dramatically threw himself on the couch, and Bucky. “How do I go on?”

“You found a what?” Bucky didn’t even bother pushing Clint off, too shocked and excited. “Go back a bit there please.” Clint propped himself up on his elbows and smiled wide, radiating with joy.

“I found a for sale auto shop in the town just a bit south of here. The owner is some guy who just lost an eye, heh, and he’s planning on retiring.”

“You’re fucking kidding,” Bucky said. It was too good to be true, there had to be a catch.

“I’m not, dude. He was super intense too, asking me about what the plan was and who I was working with, but he’s the real deal. All we gotta do is get $5,000 and we’re golden.”

“$5,000? Fuck.” Bucky fell back, thumping his head against the couch. “Guess it’ll stay a dream then. There’s no way I’ll be able to get that money.”

“Well,” Clint said, drawing out the vowel, “If Natasha’s trip goes as planned, we may be able to. And without the interest rate of banks.” Bucky raised a brow. “Nah, I don’t wanna speak for her, and besides, it may not happen, but if it doesn’t we can always get a loan from the bank.”

“I’ll be lucky to get that amount and a low enough interest rate to actually turn a profit,” Bucky griped. “Whatever she’s planning, I hope it works, because I’ll be lucky to make any money at this rate.” Clint moved off Bucky, sitting up. “Plus we gotta get the machinery, so that’ll add to the total.” Bucky held his head in his hands and groaned. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Because you love working on cars? And you’ve wanted to start your own shop forever?” Clint gave Bucky’s shoulder a few firm pats. “You’ll get there, dude. I promise.”

 

It was a few days later when Natasha returned. She arrived in a shiny red convertible that had Bucky whistling. He and Clint were on the front lawn of apartment complex, playing cards on one of the picnic tables that were set up. Natasha gracefully got out of the driver’s seat and tossed the keys to the man sitting in the back. He hopped out and helped the woman who had been sitting next to Natasha out of the car. Clint began to gather up their cards, grinning wildly. Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, but Clint just waggled his in response. Bucky rolled his eyes, but stood up just as the three approached.

“James, Clint,” Natasha began, “These are my two associates, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.”

“Hello,” said Pepper, warmly.

“Associates? Really? I’d considered us friends, Natasha. That hurts me. Hurts me real deep.” Bucky looked Tony over. He was obviously rich, if the car was anything to go by, and his attitude was incredibly relaxed. Bucky wasn’t quite sure how he felt about him.

“Put a bandaid on it,” Natasha replied smoothly. Tony scoffed, acting affronted, but smiled and held out his hand to Bucky.

“Nice to meet you, James,” He said.

“Please. Call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” Tony said, sounding amused. “I hear you’re in the business of fixing cars. Or at least looking to be.”

“That’d be correct.”

“We found a lovely space in a town to the south,” Clint chimed in. “Just gotta get the money to buy it.”

“As well as for the machines, insurance, and everything else,” Bucky added. “So essentially, I’m not so much in the business as staring at it longingly from afar.” Tony let out a shocked burst of laughter and lowered his sunglasses, finally looking at Bucky directly.

“Well, I may be able to help you with that.” Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. Tony smirked. “Natasha has been telling me about your situation these past few days and I’ve been looking to branch out in my philanthropist work, so what would you say to me helping you out.” Bucky shot Natasha a nervous look, but she shook her head minutely. He relaxed and looked back at Tony who was doing a very bad job of not looking interested in their silent conversation.

“Help me out in what way? A loan?” Bucky asked.

“I’d be willing to cover costs, no loans, no interest, for you to start your business with the stipulation that, if you’re as good as Natasha says, you become my personal mechanic. Not that I really need one, but I’m usually busy with other inventions and robots, so my cars don’t get the treatment they deserve.” Bucky sat down on the picnic bench again, eyes wide. “Before any of that though, I would like to see you work. I trust Natasha absolutely, but I’m also pretty anal about my cars so I need someone good and efficient.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, holding out a hand, “This is kind of a lot, and I just need a moment.” Bucky was reeling. It was too easy, too convenient, too perfect. There had to be a bigger catch. But Natasha would never have brought him if it wasn’t legitimate. Bucky sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Can I get back to you on that?”

“Uh, I guess?” Tony paused, quiet for the first time since his arrival. “I mean, I was sort of expecting more of a ‘Yes! Yes!’ and excitement, maybe some jumping, but this works.” He scratched the back of his head.

“It’s not that I’m not grateful,” Bucky said quickly, “I am, trust me, it’s just.... a lot to process. It’s been a hell of a week for me, and it’s all going a little fast.” He turned to Clint. “You knew?”

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “And I really think it’s a good idea. Fuck college, man! Start the business you’ve always wanted to! Why get a degree in engineering when school sucks ass and you literally have your dream at your feet.” Bucky shook his head.

“I get that, and I agree, but,” he paused, not sure what he was arguing.

“Why don’t we all have lunch and talk about something else for a while?” Bucky had almost forgotten about Pepper until she spoke. She was a beacon of calm energy next to Tony’s sporadic and energetic self, and Bucky was suddenly very grateful for her.

“I’d like that,” he replied.

 

They had lunch at the small diner in town, crowded together in a corner booth.

“So,” Tony said, plopping down next to Bucky, “Had enough time to think about it, or…?” Bucky rolled his eyes, but quirked his lips in a small smile.

“You’re not pulling my leg? You’re not gonna repossess everything at some random point?” Bucky pushed some food around on his plate.

“Listen, I’ve got too much money to really care what I do with it, I trust Natasha, and she said you needed help so,” Tony shrugged, “I could waste my money on frivolous stuff or help someone and I’ve already got enough frivolous stuff.” Tony picked some lint off his pants, obviously uncomfortable with being sincere for more than 3 seconds.

“I’m not used to things like this just happening,” Bucky admitted. “And it really sounds too good to be true. After this past week,” Bucky said, sucking in a breath, “I’ve taken enough risks.”

“Natasha told me you had some family stuff that happened. Didn’t say what but,” Tony coughed, uncomfortable, “But I know shitty family. My dad was a major dick, I hear yours is too, so why not band together to piss them off? My dad would hate me ‘wasting money’ on something like this. I hear your dad wanted you to work a farm, which, ew, so why not? It’s a win-win from where I’m sitting.” Bucky chuckled, finally deciding to stop looking a gift horse in the mouth.

“Okay. What do you want me to fix?” Tony lit up.

“I brought down the convertible because it’s been acting up lately…”

 

Tony and Pepper left with promises to return in the next few days to purchase the shop and start talks of where Bucky and Clint would go from here. Clint at least waited until their vehicle was out of sight before he started whooping.

“This is incredible!” He jumped around Bucky, finally stopping once Natasha grabbed at his ear and yanked. “Ow!”

“Calm down, Clint,” Natasha said, but she was smiling. “Bucky, you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s not fully hit me, I guess.” Bucky stared up at the sky, wondering how life could be so good and so bad at the same time. “I honestly can barely believe this is actually happening.”

“I’ll be honest,” Natasha said, “I’ve been looking into this for you for a while, but the shop Clint found was a stroke of luck.” Bucky smiled at her. She shrugged and looked away. “Don’t like to see friends unhappy.”

“Aw, Natasha,” Bucky teased, “You big ol’ softy!”

“Yeah, you’re just a big ol’ cuddly bear,” Clint added. She shot them dirty looks.

“Keep joking and you’ll see how much of a bear I am.” The two held up their hands in surrender, but shared a grin. Bucky looked down, sighing sadly.

“I wish Steve was here,” he mumbled. “He’d be proud that I’m finally doing what I want.”

“I wish he was here too,” Clint said, slinging his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “And he will be. We’ll get there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “We’ll get there.” And for the first time, he truly believed that they would.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who have commented! My fragile Leo ego appreciates it TvT
> 
> Unbeta'd  
> I know jack shit about cars and farms, so that's why I wrote about them I guess  
> I spent too much time looking up what bacteria gathers on, just for a throw off line, so you know, writer things  
> This chapter is mostly fluff, but I've been ANGRY about endgame lately, so I needed it
> 
> Thank you for reading this and enjoying it! If you read it and hate it, like, legit, but there'll only be more gay farmers so

It had been a month. A month of planning, set up, and a bunch of business bullshit Bucky didn’t, and would never, fully understand. Luckily, Pepper and Natasha knew exactly what they were doing. While they took control of the business and economic side of things, which Natasha would take over in full later, Bucky focused on cleaning the place up. He and Clint spent most of their time rearranging and rebuilding the shop they had bought. It was a good shop, but they needed more room and much more organization. Clint also installed some mirrors, so he could see when someone entered the shop if he had his hearing aids out.

Becca had continued to bring letters from Steve, updating Bucky on the state of the farm and family while she was there. The thieving continued and Rumlow was trying valiantly to get my father to hire his friends to help protect the farm. It was only because they really didn’t have the money that their father had held off. Becca was convinced there was something she could use as dirt on him, but Bucky was worried.

“He’s evil incarnate, Becca!” Bucky protested. He’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants, and fuck anyone who gets in his way!”

“I’m not an idiot, Bucky,” Becca huffed. “He’s dangerous, I know that, but dad actually will end up handing over the farm at this rate! I can’t let that slime get what’s mine!” Bucky shook his head.

“You’re talking to Steve too much. He also doesn’t know when to fucking quit.” Becca looked away, making Bucky narrow his eyes. “Is he helping you?” Becca didn’t respond and Bucky groaned. “I can’t believe it.”

“Don’t tell him I told you!” Becca pleaded. “He knew you’d get all stuffy about it! It’s better than me doing this on my own, right?” Bucky grit his teeth and inhaled sharply through hi nose. He eventually nodded, very reluctantly.

“He told you to say that, didn’t he?”

“Maybe,” she replied.

“Honestly, you two are a menace together, good god.” Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head. Becca pouted and crossed her arms.

“Then I guess I won’t tell you the good news!”

“Becca,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes again, “I’m not gonna fall for--”

“It’s about Steve,” she interrupted. Bucky paused, mouth open, and he quickly snapped it shut, pursing his lips.

“I hate you,” he whispered. She smiled innocently and looked up, waiting to be asked. “I hate you so much,” Bucky groaned. “What? What’s the news?”

“Dad and Rumlow are spending the night out in the fields to watch for the theives and Steve has the night off,” she began. Bucky perked up, grabbing her hands. “Whoa! Well, anyway, he’s packed and ready to be picked up, I figured you’d want to have plenty of time together, and he’ll meet you about a mile from the edge of our farm, so dad doesn’t spot you.”

“I think that’s overdoing it, a half mile would be fine, but I’ll lt it go for now,” he interjected. She smiled and rolled her eyes.

“You two are so cute,” she said. Bucky blushed and ducked his head, warmed by her simple display of support.

“It means a lot to me that you think that,” he said in a hushed voice, slightly overwhelmed. She hugged him, smacking a kiss on the side of his head.

“I love you, Bucky,” she said. “Nothing would ever change that. Plus, you picked a good one.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He bragged. She laughed and shoved him, sticking her feet on his lap. He began to rub them, the way he’d done for years.

 

Steve was leaning up against a fence post when Bucky pulled up. He was wearing a blue shirt that stretched deliciously across his shoulders and chest and Bucky felt his heart speed up. Steve looked up at the sound of crunching gravel and broke out into a beautiful grin. Bucky quickly threw the car into park and got out, standing in time for Steve to press him against the car and kiss him. He nipped at Bucky’s bottom lip, sucking on it gently before pulling away. Bucky panted slightly, trying to catch his breath. Steve didn’t pull away, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Steve sighed. Bucky nodded in agreement, pulling Steve closer and kissing him again. They kissed for only a moment, pulling away reluctantly. There were out in the middle of nowhere basically, but who knew if someone was going to choose that day to travel? Steve hopped into the passenger side and Bucky quickly made a 3 point turn and sped back towards town.

“I could barely believe it when Becca told me,” Bucky breathed out.

“Honestly, I could barely believe he was just letting me have the time off. He hasn’t done that in over a month. He must be really distracted by whatever Rumlow is up to,” Steve said. Bucky coughed and gave Steve a pointed side eye. Steve blushed but set his jaw. Bucky sighed; he knew that look.

“I know, I know,” Bucky sighed. “It’s more safe with the both of you. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Steve blushed more. Bucky grabbed his knee and relished in the way it made his breath hitch. As he made a left turn, he put his hand back on the wheel. Steve let out a shaky exhale.

“I really, really missed you,” Steve said, emphasizing the reallys. Bucky shot him a soft but hungry look.

“I missed you too, Stevie,” Bucky drawled. Steve flushed and rolled down his window. Bucky smirked to himself. He knew how much Steve liked that nickname, as well as when Bucky spoke slow and easy.

They spent the rest of the car ride in comfortable silence. When they arrived at Clint and Natasha’s, Bucky paused outside the apartment door.

“So. Clint and Natasha are spending the evening with Tony, Pepper, and their friend Bruce. They said not to wait up,” he blushed at this, “So I think they gave us their blessing.” Steve laughed, though he was flushed as well.

“I seriously can’t believe them.” Steve pushed past Bucky into the apartment, tossing his bag next to the couch. “So, Barnes,” he sang, “What’s the plan?”

“Well, I thought we could make dinner, maybe go dancing,” Bucky replied. Steve paused, shocked. Bucky smiled, but it was tight around the edges. “There’s a place I know, Daisy’s,” he said. “They’re friendly to people like us. We could go there and just, blend in.” He had looked down while speaking, but paused to look Steve in the eyes. He was staring, something beautiful finding its way onto his face. “We don’t have to, I did go there to uh, hook up, sometimes, but I really love dancing, and if I could just dance with you that’d--” Bucky cut himself off, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Steve, however, didn’t hesitate, and took Bucky’s hand with a soft smile.

“I’d love to go dancing with you, Bucky Barnes,” he said. Bucky smiled and kissed him, gently cupping his cheek. Steve moaned softly into the kiss, Bucky’s skin prickling with goose bumps at the sound. He deepened the kiss, sucking lightly on Steve’s bottom lip. Steve slowly dragged his hands down Bucky’s back, pausing to cup his ass firmly. Bucky arched back, pulling away from the kiss to let out a breathy sigh. Steve took the chance to suck on his neck vigorously, biting just hard enough to send sparks right to Bucky’s dick.

“F-Fuck,” Bucky grit out. He snaked his hand up to tug gently on Steve’s hair, making him hiss in pleasure. “Rogers, if you keep doing that,” Bucky breathed out, biting back a moan when Steve sucked intensely on his pulse point.

“Mmm, what?” Steve replied, kissing up Bucky’s neck to his ear.

“We should at least make dinner first, FUCK,” Bucky yelped when Steve bit his ear lobe, yanking harder on his hair unintentionally. Steve laughed and pulled back, keeping his hands on Bucky’s ass. His hair was mussed and his face was flushed; Bucky had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Okay, okay,” Steve said, kissing Bucky once more before finally releasing him. Bucky took some time to readjust, shooting Steve a glare that had no heart in it. Steve did his best to look innocent.

“You are a menace, Steve Rogers.” Steve just shrugged, smiling, and Bucky went into the kitchen, looking through the cupboards. “I didn’t really plan ahead as much as I wanted, but how would you feel about some chicken and corn on the cob? They were the fresh ingredients today,” he explained. He heard Steve come in the kitchen, and turned to look at him. Steve was smiling gently, leaning against the door frame. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just… Nothing.”

 

Dinner went smoothly, though there were more pauses for kissing than there should have been, not that Bucky was complaining. He and Steve made quick work of the food, cleaning up after themselves and putting the leftover corn away for Natasha and Clint. They then made their way to Daisy’s. Bucky was a ball of nervous energy the whole time.

“So Carol can be a bit intimidating, but she’s a good person. She’s taken care of me when she shouldn’t have, so I owe her a lot,” Bucky explained. Steve nodded, reveling in the cool night air coming through the window.

“If you’re nervous, we can just dance at home, Buck,” Steve said gently. Bucky bit his lip, chewing at it. Steve reached up and pulled it free from his teeth.

“I’ve spent so much time here just drinking myself away,” he admitted. “It’s weird to go back for a date, is all.” Steve took Bucky’s hand and squeezed.

“Hey, I get it, it’s okay,” Steve said. “We both lived lives before we met each other. All that matters to me is you being with me, here, now.” Bucky flushed and pulled into the parking lot. He turned to Steve.

“Alright, Stevie, baby,” he drawled, making Steve blush, “Let’s boogie.” Steve rolled his eyes and laughed.

“You really know how to ruin a moment, Buck.” He took Bucky’s hand and pulled him inside. Carol was behind the bar, talking with Maria, their foreheads pressed together. Bucky took Steve over, rapping his knuckles on the counter to get their attention.

“This better be good,” Maria began, pursing her lips. She paused when she saw Steve behind Bucky. “Oh, and who is this?” Carol turned and eyed Steve, who was exuding nervous energy, but standing tall. Bucky intertwined his fingers with Steve’s. Maria clicked her tongue and smiled.

“You must be Carol and Maria,” Steve said. “Bucky’s told me about you. All good things, I promise.” Carol snorted, but smiled.

“You must be Steve,” she said, holding out her hand, “Bucky’s told me about you as well, but he did focus more on how your ass looked.” Bucky groaned and covered his face with his hand.

“Carol, fucking come on!” She and Steve laughed, making Bucky blush. Maria only smiled and crossed her arms, providing no support.

“Hey, you waxed poetic about it for an hour, it’s not my fault,” she replied. She turned her attention back to Steve. “He also mentioned that you were an angel on earth,” she said with a grin. Bucky started pulling Steve to the dance floor.

“Wow, as great as this conversation is, we should get to dancing.” The two women laughed, but waved them off, returning to their conversation. Steve was grinning wildly when Bucky pulled him around so they could dance.

“You think I’m an angel?” Bucky pulled him in close, kissing him gently. It was thrilling, to openly show affection with so many others around, so Bucky kissed Steve again.

“I know you don’t like being painted as perfect,” Steve hummed in agreement, “But you’re everything I never knew I needed, so you’re perfect to me.” Steve sucked in a sharp breath.

“Bucky,” he muttered. “Bucky, I--”

“I love you, you know,” Bucky said in a rush, worried he wouldn’t get through it otherwise. “Sometimes it scares me how much I love you, Stevie. But I wouldn’t change it for the world.” Steve gaped at him, but he soon smiled. It was like the sun appearing from behind the hills, it was so bright.

“I love you, too,” he replied. “I can’t believe you beat me to it!”

“I can’t believe you love me,” Bucky joked. Steve frowned and cupped Bucky’s face.

“Bucky, I know you’re joking, but you do deserve this.” He kissed Bucky fiercely, almost angrily, moving his hand to the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky leaned into it, kissing back. When Steve pulled away, he kept his eyes on Bucky’s, still frowning. Bucky stared back for a moment before looking down. He didn’t respond. Steve pulled him close, their bodies mashed together on an open dance floor, and held him tight the whole night.

 

They danced and drank the night away, finally stumbling back into the apartment in the early hours of the morning. They fell against the wall and Bucky shushed Steve, giggling slightly at his askew hair and flushed face. He wasn’t completely drunk, but he was warm inside out and it made the world beautifully fuzzy.

“Stevie, look at you,” he whispered, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Most beautiful in the world. Gimme a kiss dollface.”

“Bucky,” Steve laughed, embarrassed. He did kiss Bucky though, stumbling with him onto the couch. Someone had pulled it out, which meant Clint and Nat were home, but it only registered faintly in Bucky’s brain, his main focus being the way Steve was kissing him. As the kiss grew more heated, Bucky shifted so he could ghost his hands over Steve’s sides, making him shudder. Steve pulled back, looking down at Bucky in awe, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. It made Bucky’s heart ache. Steve kissed his forehead, slowly kissing down to his jaw. “I know that look, Buck,” he murmured into Bucky’s neck. “You deserve this. You really do. And even if you don’t believe it, I do.” He pulled back, pushing Bucky’s fringe out of his face as he did.

“Why?” Bucky choked out. “Why me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve replied. “I’m an asshole who doesn’t know when to quit. I just don’t like bullies.”

“And I’m an asshole, period. Full stop.”

“You’re also a great brother, kind to people until they prove they aren’t worth it, and an absolutely sinful kisser. So, I mean, I think you’re one hell of a catch.”

“You just like me for my mouth, admit it.”

“I love you for a lot more than that,” Steve whispered. Bucky pulled him back in for a kiss, his drunken brain hoping that if he shoved his tongue far enough down Steve’s throat, he may understand how much Bucky loves him. There was a pointed cough from the hallway and Steve shot up, still kneeling above Bucky, who made a few aborted attempts to sit up before finally managing it. Natasha stood there, arms crossed, a smile on her face.

“I’m happy for the both of you, but if you fuck on that bed it might break. Just a warning.” She then went into the bathroom. Bucky and Steve paused, then looked at each other and burst into giggles. They undressed quickly, waving at Natasha as she headed back to bed, before curling up together, face to face, and falling asleep with smiles on their faces.

 

It was early. Too early for Bucky to be awake. Too early to be having a conversation with Clint and Natasha.

“So you went dancing then?” Natasha blew on her coffee before taking a sip, her focus mainly on Steve. Mostly because he was the more awake of the pair.

“Yeah. I met Maria and Carol, both of them are incredible. It was a lot of fun. I haven’t ever really been dancing. And definitely not with the right partner.” Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand under the table before going back to staring down at his coffee in hopes it would just meld into him without him having to take a sip. Clint was munching on some toast, eyes closed, but he hadn’t yet finished his pot of coffee, so honestly, they were lucky he was upright.

“They are some of the smartest business women I know,” Natasha said with a touch of admiration. “You should probably talk to them about how they run their place. It’s not the same as an autoshop, but you may want to make some protections like they have.” With Rumlow and his father in the know, Bucky wasn’t sure if his sexuality was being broadcast. Though their shop was in a town south of there, small towns harbored gossip like bacteria on a dirty dish cloth. It would be safest to make sure they had all their bases covered; acceptance was growing, but the Rumlows of the world wanted to see it burn and fizzle away.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled, “Can we talk about this at not ass o’clock in the morning?”

“Not my fault you two stayed out late,” Natasha crooned. Bucky groaned again, matching the tone of the phone as it began to ring. Natasha stood, ruffling Bucky’s hair as she went, and answered the phone. Bucky cracked an eye open, watching her. She turned around, face grim, and held out the phone.

“It’s Becca,” she said. “You two better get back.”

“Us two?” Bucky questioned. “Don’t think I’ll be much appreciated there.” Her words finally clicked and he sat up straighter. “Wait, what’s wrong?” Steve stood, shoving things into his bag and grabbing his shoes.

“It’s Martha,” she replied. “She’s been sick since last night and is begging for you. I think it’s time to face that dragon, Barnes.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry. I saw It 2 and hyperfixated _intensely_ for the first time in years. And this was so close to done.
> 
> I love this story so much, and I hate having neglected it. This is a very short chapter, but intend to start their happy ending soon. And hopefully, that will be as beautiful as I imagine it.
> 
> Unbeta'd

Steve and Bucky had rushed back to the farm after the call, though Bucky took his time getting out of the car. Being back home was… surreal. While he was happy to be back for his mother and sisters, his father’s presence was a looming shadow over him. Steve went to his caravan, hoping to make it seem like he hadn’t left at all the night before. Bucky wanted to follow, but knew it would be better if they ‘arrived’ separately. So he went up to the front door alone. It took him a moment, but he finally knocked. Beth opened the door and paused, mouth agape. Before Bucky could say anything, she threw her arms around him, pulling him close.

“Bucky! Oh thank you, thank you!” She sniffled, nuzzling into his chest. Bucky brought his arms up and hugged her tightly.

“Hey Beth,” he said into her hair. “Hey.” They stood there a moment before Winnie came up behind Beth and let out a gasp.

“Bucky!” Beth stepped back, wiping her eyes, and Winnie took her place. Bucky felt his eyes well up, despite his best efforts.

“Mom,” he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. She squeezed him tightly before pulling back.

“Are you doing ok? Have you been eating well? I know you said you had a place to go, but I just worry, what with your father’s influence--”

“Yeah, he had more friends in town than I thought,” he replied. “But we can talk about that later. How is Martha?” Winnie sighed, sagging a little.

“She’s been throwing up violently all night. At this point it’s dry heaving and bile, she can’t keep anything down, and,” her lips trembled and she sniffed, “And all she’s been doing is begging for you and I couldn’t--” She cut herself off and Bucky took her hands.

“It’s okay. I’m here now and I’ll stay as long as I can. Take me to her?” She led him upstairs to his old room. Martha was in the bed, looking so small and frail it made Bucky’s heat clench. Her skin was pale and there was a layer of sweat on her forehead, plastering her bangs to her face. She was asleep, but her face was contorted into a look of pain and discomfort. Bucky went to the side of the bed, pulling up the chair Winnie must have brought up for herself. He took Martha hand, rubbing circles with his thumb, and watched as her brow slowly unfurrowed.

“She’s been asleep for the past hour, so hopefully things will start calming down, but she has a bad fever.” Bucky nodded as his mom spoke, not looking away from his sister. “Bucky,” she said, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it. He turned to look at her then and noticed the large bags under her eyes and the way her hands were trembling. Though he didn’t want to leave Martha, he went to his mother, hugging her tightly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t convince him to let you stay. He just kept talking about how you were a… a…”

“Mom,” Bucky cut in, pulling back to look her in the eye. “You don’t need to repeat it; I have a pretty good idea of what he called me. And you have nothing to apologize for. Dad can be dangerous when he wants.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I left and didn’t fight to stay.”

“You’ve wanted out so long, baby, I understand.” She kissed his cheek. “He and Brock aren’t back quite yet, but they should be soon.” She wasn’t telling him to leave, she never would, but he knew she was worried.

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly. “They can shove it. Martha is sick and needs me, and if dad can’t get his head out of his ass long enough to understand that, then he can fuck off.”

“Language,” his mother warned, but she had a small smile on her face. “Why don’t you go down and have some breakfast. I’m sure Ruth and Becca would love to see you.”

“But--”

“I’ll stay with her. The food’s done already.” Bucky hugged her again before heading downstairs. He hugged Ruth and Becca before sitting down and munching on some toast. There was more to eat, but he didn’t feel particularly hungry. Ruth and Beth were staring at him, eyes wide, like they hadn’t really seen him before. He wondered what George had told them about him. Becca sent him a smirk and he furrowed his brow.

“What?” He asked.

“Your neck,” she replied airily. Beth and Ruth giggled. Bucky stood and went to the washroom to look in the mirror. He went red when he noticed all of the hickies and love bites that Steve had left. He didn’t even remember receiving all of them. Plus, Natasha hadn’t made any comments. Though their breakfast had been halted before it got going. He went back out, face still red, and was greeted with a flurry of questions.

“What are those?”

“I’ve read about hickies in books, is that what they are?”

“Who did you get them from?”

Beth and Ruth spoke at the same time and Bucky held up his hands.

“Whoa, whoa. Yes they’re hickies, what books are you reading about hickies?! And no, I’m not telling you who I got them from!” Becca snorted. Bucky sent her a glare that did nothing but make her smile. He sat down and decided the best way to avoid answering questions was to shovel bacon into his mouth. It’d be better than having a third course of toast. Of course, Steve came in the back door right then, making Bucky blush more. Luckily, only Becca noticed. Unluckily, it made her burst into laughter. Steve quirked a brow at Bucky, but then his eyebrows shot up. Bucky looked away, though he fought a smile.

“Uhm, morning,” Steve said. Beth and Ruth waved before going back to whispering to each other. They kept looking at Bucky before falling into giggles and hushed whispers.

“Morning,” both Becca and Bucky responded. Steve sat, grabbing eggs, bacon, toast, and some fruit salad before settling down to eat. Beth and Ruth finally broke apart, but they leaned on the table, zeroing on Bucky in a way that made his flight instincts go wild.

“Dad said that you weren’t staying here anymore because you were sick,” Ruth began.

“But mom said it was because dad was angry at you for something you couldn’t control.”

“They yelled a lot about it.”

“But they wouldn’t tell us anything more,” Beth whined.

“Yeah! And we’re old enough to understand, even if mom and dad don’t think so!” Bucky stared at them, mouth agape.

“Uhm,” Bucky said, confused about the entire situation. He could tell them the truth, or he could get up and leave. Sighing, Bucky rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I’m not super keen to talk about it,” he said, “But dad kicked me out because…” He trailed off. It’d somehow been easier to say it to his dad. He knew how his father would react, and didn’t care, but he did care about what Ruth and Beth thought of him. “Well, because I’m gay.” They stared at him for a moment before Ruth huffed.

“And that means?”

“Well, dad thinks that men should only love women, and women should only love men. I love men.” Steve choked on his bacon and Becca went into a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Bucky flushed and covered his hands with his face.

“Like the way Beth has a crush on Tim?” Ruth asked. Beth squeaked and gave her a shove that soon turned into a shoving contest.

“Girls!” Becca shouted, making them pause. “Take it outside please? And stop bothering Bucky. He just came home. Don’t want him to leave again do you?” Beth and Ruth stiffened and shook their heads quickly, sitting down and keeping to themselves. Steve smiled into his plate and Bucky stood up.

“I’m gonna go back up and see if Martha is awake. May as well be upstairs when dad gets home,” he said.

“But, Bucky,” Ruth and Beth whined, drawing out the last syllable of his name.

“Girls!” Becca whipped around. “I love you to death, but seriously!” Ruth and Beth frowned at her, sticking out their tongues. Bucky made his exit while they were distracted. He really, really did not want to see his father quite yet.

Martha was still asleep when he got upstairs, Winnie dampening the cloth on her forehead once more.

“She’s really not doing ok, huh,” Bucky murmured, kneeling next to the bed.

“Hopefully the fever will break some while she is napping, but I don’t know that she’ll be better until next week,” Winnie sighed. “And, I know you can’t stay, but--” her voice cracked and it broke Bucky’s heart.

“I’ll visit. During the day when I can. We’re still setting up stuff, but, uh,” he flushed, smiling at the floor. “Clint and I finally found a way to get our own auto shop.”

“What?! That’s fantastic!” She hugged him, holding him as close as she could. “You’ve wanted that for so long, honey!”

“I know,” he laughed. “I know. I’m still not sure it’s really happening. I mean, it is, but--” he shook his head, cutting himself off. “It’s a dream come true and I’m still just waiting for the other shoe to drop, regardless of it’s there or not.”

“I know that feeling,” his mother mumbled. “Is it alright if I go wash up and--”

“Yes, yes,” he said, shooing her away. “Go!” Her laugh lingered in the room for a moment and Bucky felt his heart clench. He missed her. He missed Becca, Beth, Ruth, and Martha. And Steve. God, did he miss Steve. Bucky sat heavily on the chair, watching Martha sleep. It seemed like a peaceful sleep at least, and for that he was grateful. He ran a hand over his face, biting back a yawn. It wasn’t long before he started dozing.

“Bucky…” The voice was soft, but his eyes snapped open and he rubbed the sleep away, turning to Martha.

“Hey, how’s my best girl?” She smiled at him, her face shining despite everything.

“You came!” Her voice was weak and kind of croaky, but it was like music to his ears.

“Of course I did,” he said. “I’m just sorry it took me so long.”

“Daddy didn’t want you to come,” she whispered. “He said you’d make it worse.” Bucky clenched his fist where she couldn’t see, angry. “But he’s wrong. He’s wrong about a lot of things.” Bucky took the dishcloth off her forehead, wetting it, and she smiled at him. Her eyes were half lidded and hazy, most likely due to the fever.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked, smiling softly.

“Yeah,” she replied airily. “Like you. You and Steve.” Bucky blinked. Then he blinked again.

“Uh, wuh?” Bucky stared at her, unsure if she was talking about what he thought.

“You love him, right?” She said, looking up at him with her bright blue eyes, and he sighed.

“I do.”

“Dad thinks it’s wrong, but how could it be? You and Steve are the best people I know, besides mom.” Bucky let out a short watery laugh and nodded.

“Yeah, mom really is the best, isn’t she.”

“Stay,” she whispered. “Please.”

“For as long as I possibly can,” he whispered back. She smiled and fell back to sleep.

 

Bucky sat by Martha for a while, but soon got restless and stood, needing to stretch his legs. He went downstairs, heading to the kitchen, when the front door opened. He paused and turned, looking straight at his father. He sucked in a breath and steeled himself, squaring his shoulders unconsciously. His father stared at him and narrowed his eyes.

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m visiting Martha,” Bucky replied, amazed that he kept his voice even.

“I told you--”

“Yeah, let’s get one thing straight,” Bucky said, cutting off his father. It shocked him, giving Bucky the upper hand. “You can hate me, I don’t care. But these are my sisters, this is my family. If they want me around, I will be.”

“I don’t care what _honorable_ ,” his father replied sarcastically, “reasons you have. I don’t want you around here. You’re a threat to my family and our health,” he spat. “I won’t have you in my house.” Bucky fumed, clenching his fists. He couldn’t take it.

“The _real_ threat to your family is your fucking useless farm hand!” He snapped. “He’s the one doing this! He hired some goons to commit the thefts, to weaken the farm and wiggle his way in.”

“He fought them off last night,” his father said calmly. “Why would he have done that?”

“To get your trust,” Bucky seethed. “How fucking--” he let out a muffled sound of rage. “He wants to marry Becca,” he said, articulating dramatically. “He’s made fucking _disgusting_ comments about her, which is why we got in that fight, and I can’t believe that you can’t see how he’s working you!”

“I’m not some naive idiot,” his father hissed.

“Coulda fooled me!” Bucky let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m serious. I think he’s a threat, not only to the farm, but to Becca. He'd do whatever it took to get what he wanted. And he'll run it into the ground for profit so fast you could barely blink. And if he tried to use _Becca_? Feel how you want about me, but don’t throw her under the bus to make some pointed statement about how fucking useless and disgusting I am.” He turned, heading for the kitchen. His father didn’t say anything for a moment, but just as Bucky crossed the threshold, he heard him.

“How sure are you.”

“Completely,” he replied. He didn’t wait to hear if his father said anything else. He ran out the back, heading straight for Steve’s caravan. He had no idea if he was there, but god, did he fucking hope he was. He stopped halfway, groaning and pressing the meat of his palms to his eyes. He shouldn’t go see Steve, as much as he wanted to. That would put Steve at risk. He sighed and turned back around, heading for the house. When he got back, Becca was in the kitchen, looking shocked and slightly off balance. She jerked when Bucky entered and he paused.

“Did,” she breathed out, “Did you tell dad about what Brock was doing?” Bucky tensed up and looked away.

“I--”

“He just asked me about it. Asked if Brock had said anything or-or done anything,” she said, her voice shaky. “I mean, I’m glad, but it was…” She trailed off and put her hand over her mouth. “I’m not unhappy. I’m so excited I’m almost sick. He seemed to be serious about it. About doing something.”

“He did?” Bucky was shocked, honestly. He didn’t think his father would act so quickly.

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“Good. It came from me losing my temper, so I’m glad I somehow got through to him.” He pulled her into a hug and she laughed into his shoulder, the sound watery. She sniffled and burrowed in.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said. Bucky kissed the top of her head and smiled.


End file.
